


these hollow hills

by mimsical



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Exes, Canon Compliant, Depression, Earth C (Homestuck), Family, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hellmurder Island, Illness, Introversion, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nightmares, Past Sexual Harassment, Post-Break Up, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, Romantic Tension, Self-Hatred, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Social Anxiety, Trans Dirk Strider, Trans Jade Harley, communication issues, dirk's internal self-deprecating monologue, have i mentioned: reconciliation?, re: crockertier, theyre trying ok i promise they'll get there, uh... surprise!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-10-05 15:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10311422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimsical/pseuds/mimsical
Summary: sometimes the nightmares are about real things. sometimes they are about things that's aren't. sometimes they blend truth and untruth until you can't remember what happened and what didn't. these categories are all equally bad.somehow, together, you make it manageable.





	1. lost in the fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "platonically sleeping together" yeah right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mind the warnings. the nightmares, while not graphically described, can be a little gruesome.

Here are three facts:

  1. Jake is asleep in your bed.
  2. He’s been coming to you at night because he has nightmares, but you don’t know what his nightmares are about.
  3. You’re definitely not back together.



_Stop panicking_ , you tell yourself for the thousandth time. You’re wide awake, brain buzzing and thinking faster than is safe for your health, and the room is very dark. Sometimes Jake will curl up against you when he sleeps, and sometimes he doesn’t. Usually you’re asleep, too, but not tonight. But you can’t take your insomnia somewhere else, because he could wake up and wonder where you went, or — or think something that isn’t true, and so you have to stay, but you can’t relax.

You escape to the bathroom, a reasonable place to be in the middle of the night, and sit on the floor for a minute or two. Why can’t you fucking sleep, it’s so annoying.

When the bathroom proves itself unhelpful in calming your mind, you return to bed. Jake blinks awake at you, sleepy and confused.

“Where’d you…” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you whisper back. “Insomnia.”

He considers this as you slide back in next to him, rolls over and throws an arm over you. As always, he is very warm. Your heartbeat ticks up a few notches at the warm, heady smell of his skin. “Go b’ck t’sleep,” he says into your shoulder. Doesn’t actually offer a solution to the problem, as you’ve been awake for over an hour, but you wriggle your arm into a more comfortable position until you can curl fingers around his side. When his breathing evens out again you turn your head to breathe in the smell of his hair. That helps a little. You lay quiet and try to focus on the reassuring presence of another person for a while until the warmth eases you back into a doze.

Jake wakes you hours later with his trembling. You disentangle yourself enough to touch his shoulder and whisper his name with a slow increase in volume until he shakes himself out of the nightmare. You hate the blank, frightened confusion in his eyes every time you wake him. The worst times are when he doesn’t understand that he was dreaming, and begs you to help him, to protect him from something that he’s never clarified outside of those moments. He doesn’t mention them, though you’re sure he remembers. Probably embarrassed, you think.

This time he’s neither lost to the dream nor very upset, which is good, maybe. When he registers the familiar shape of your bedroom and of you he settles fairly quickly, muttering _Sorry_ and trying to curl back up into the bed sheets. You let him, turn over onto your stomach and let him ignore you. Eventually he untwists and presses an arm back against your side, another apology, this time silent. You turn your head towards him in acknowledgement but let yourself slide back to sleep.

When you wake in the morning to Jake sliding out of bed and dressing for the day in the pale, early light, its with the sour sense of your own nightmare clouding your head, making you slow to move. Jake slips out the door with only a quick glance back, half apologetic, half awkward. In your dream you had been stuck, unable to move, and your body had been dissolving, turning invisible piece by piece, but you didn’t stop existing. You continued to live as some sort of fucked up bodiless soul, unable to call for help because you couldn’t get your voice to work and the words died silent in your mouth. This is a recurring dream.

It’s not really frightening, and in the dream you hadn’t felt much in the way of emotion, but now with the memory of it fragmenting away the more you try to remember, you just feel vaguely disturbed, a little sick, mostly tired. You roll over and bury your face in Jake’s pillow, breathe him in. That’s probably not okay. That’s probably bad, and you’re going to end up as heartbroken as ever, in the end. But he’s seeking comfort from you, so maybe you can have this, just a little thing, while you try to convince yourself it’s worth it to get up today.

You eventually drag your ass out of bed and stumble into the shower. You stand with your head against the tile wall and let the sound and feeling of hot water drown your mind out for a while. The hot water runs out, though, so you can’t stay there forever like you did before the game. You don’t necessarily have something you need to do today, so you take your time getting your hair right and making yourself have something for breakfast. Jane messages to ask if you still want cooking lessons. You tell her you can come over in a little bit, and lay down on your couch for a while.

Everything is confusing, lately.

In a little bit, at Jane’s, she tells you baking is like math, and cooking is like art. Having subsisted off of nonperishable items and fish your whole life, you wouldn’t know. You make soup. She gives you a cookie and tells you she’s been doing a lot of baking with Calliope.

You both pause the conversation to agree that Calliope is the best. Jane smiles extra-wide as she says it.

“I think Roxy is going to ask Calliope to date her,” she tells you.

“Really?” you ask, mostly unsurprised but warmed by the thought. “That would be nice.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Jane is still smiling as she turns back to the soup. “Too bad she’s getting there first, is all. Callie’s a lovely girl.”

This statement surprises you a little more. Jane is staring at the soup very intently, and has turned sort of red.

“Ask her out quickly, before Roxy gets her, and then when Roxy panics, date her, too,” you decide at last.

Jane giggles. You like her laugh very much, and have from the first time you heard it. You didn’t hear it enough for a long time. “I’ll take it under consideration,” she says, and relaxes.

Neither of you mention Jake, which is okay. You don’t know what’s going on, anyway, and you’d rather let Jane keep smiling. You eat your cookie and stir the soup when directed.

When you leave, soup packed into a neat container and stored safely in your sylladex, Jane wants to hug you goodbye. That’s okay, too. You’re a lot better at casual physical contact than you used to be. Besides, Jane is the absolute best at hugs, and everyone knows it. You’d have to be in a seriously bad way to turn down the famous Jane hug.

“You’re my favorite,” you tell her.

“Everyone’s your favorite,” she says, with an eye roll and a flicker of a smile.

“You’re all my favorite in different ways.”

She releases you, and you go home. Everyone lives pretty close together, still, for the time being. You think people are talking about moving to other places around the world, but you don’t know where you’d go, if you were to move. You sort of like that everyone lives close together, anyway.

You put the soup away and consider your evening. Dave interrupts you with a message before you make any plans and wants to know about the Statue of Liberty jpeg artifacts littering the globe. Your use of the word littering is very intentional here. You’re midway through regaling him with tales of his self from your timeline when Jake shows up, earlier than usual.

He looks very wrung out and you look at each other awkwardly for a second.

“There’s soup, if you want some,” you offer. “It’s just in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” he says, and retreats into the kitchen. You finish your conversation with Dave.

anyway karkat and i are going to inflict romcoms on john tonight, he types. so i gotta head out later bro

You try very hard not to read into that at all and respond with Have fun tormenting John, talk to you later. 

Casual, decently neutral. If it was a mistake he can pretend it didn’t happen. If it was just a casual moniker that’s fine, too. If it’s anything more you might die so you put it out of your mind for now.

It doesn’t take much extrapolation to guess what Dave might think of you letting yourself spend so much time with Jake. You’ll… cross that bridge when it comes to it, you guess.

Jake has yet to reappear, so you go to investigate. Turns out he’s huddled on the ground, drumming his fingers on the cabinetry. He has a bowl of soup sitting next to him on the floor, and he definitely does not look at you, so you hastily contrive a reason to be in the kitchen by grabbing the nearest food item and retreating. You’re not actually hungry, though, so you just set it on the side table and reopen your computer. After a few minutes of consideration, you message Calliope and ask her if she wants to hang out sometime. You suggest that the two of you fulfill her British persona and go to one of the human kingdom’s tea shops or something. She doesn’t respond, so you assume she’s being aggressively cuddled by Roxy or something. Better move fast, Jane.

The sink in the kitchen turns on, so at least Jake is mobile. You’re kind of running short on ideas for what to do, though. You’re too distracted to try and get into any research about Earth C history. Could play a few rounds of minesweeper or something, in a parody of the time before computers, but you can’t really justify that, either. Jake is very distracting, and you need to not bother him right now.

He reappears in the doorway after a few minutes. “Can I use your shower?” he asks. Mumbles, kind of.

“Go ahead,” you say, and decide not to look up and try to make eye contact. He leaves and eventually you hear the water turn on. Then you collapse back onto the sofa with only a small hint of melodrama. This is stressful. It’s late enough that you could get ready for bed, though it’s also early enough that you’d find it hard to fall asleep. Maybe you’ll start coming up with ideas for Roxy’s birthday. It’s very far away at this point, but it’s her turn for an over the top gift. Everyone else can wait their turn, because you have a fuck ton of — friends? permanent, eternal acquaintances? — and it would take a lot of time if you were going to give them all awesome gifts. You should probably put more people into the rotation, though. Maybe.

You halfheartedly brainstorm some ideas for a while. A couple have some promise, you think. Then you give up and get ready for bed. Jake’s still commandeering the bathroom so you’ll have to wait to brush your teeth but you can still change and put a few things away. Your bed is very tempting, so most of your stuff stays strewn across the floor as your face ends up in your pillow again. Nice and cozy. The bathroom door opens and Jake slinks into the room.

“You still need the bathroom, or can I…?” you trail off leadingly.

“Oh! No, it’s, uh, it’s free,” he says. You can hear the strain in his voice loud and clear as you push off the bed and finish the nightly rituals.

When you return Jake is sitting on the far corner of your bed, pressed up against the wall. You stare at him for a moment. He always got mad when you questioned him, so you can’t ask why he’s here if he’s so obviously stressed out. Have to find a better way to ask.

“Should I sleep on the floor?” you offer.

He shakes his head almost violently. “It’s your room!” he protests.

“I’ve passed out in all kinds of weird places. It wouldn’t be a big deal.” You cross the room to pick up your pillow. He doesn’t flinch away, but it’s a close thing. Please let him not notice the hint of frustration that creeps into your voice. “I could sleep on the couch, instead.”

Jake is also getting frustrated. “I’m here because I just know I’m going to have nightmares tonight, alright? And I’d rather not be kicked up the ass by them all on my lonesome, so here I am, and I’d be ever so grateful if you wouldn’t question my own logic in trying to — to prevent things from being as bad as they could be.”

“Sure, but I’m not going to actively make you uncomfortable, okay?” you say. “Are you actually going to be okay if I touch you right now?”

He deflates a little bit. You sit down on the floor so you stop looming over him, still clutching your pillow.

“Just get up here,” he says. “It won’t make much difference either way.”

You and your pillow turn off the lights and get into bed. Jake uncurls himself and flops down under the covers.

“Can you open the window a bit?” he asks, muffled into his own pillow, on his side of the bed. Your life is a disaster and you are going to fuck this up badly. You crack the window open and pull the blankets over yourself as well.

“Goodnight,” you say.

“Yes, night,” Jake agrees. As predicted, it takes you a while to fall asleep.

Jake wakes you up at two am by accidentally kicking you as he tries to fight free of the blankets.

“Ow!” you say as you snap awake.

“Sorry, fuck,” Jake whispers. His tone of voice is very strained.

“What happened?” you ask, rubbing your aching thigh. “Bad dream?”

He’s silent for long enough that you think he won’t answer. Then he says, “I dreamt that I was on my island but that robot you sent me was actually you and you died so I had to burn you like I did my grandma.”

“Oh,” you say.

“I’ve had this one before,” he adds. “It’s usually you but it was Roxy once.”

“Jesus,” you say. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

Jake shrugs but doesn’t curl up as badly as he usually does. He’s settled against the wall again, elbows resting on his knees.

“Is there something I can do? To help?” you can’t help but ask.

He shakes his head. “You’re already helping enough.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, maybe a little too sincerely, because Jake sort of winces. Alright, time to way cool it on anything that might remind Jake that you’re his clingy, shitty ex-boyfriend. “I mean, I don’t sleep anyway, dude. We could watch something until one of us feels tired again.”

You leave that there for a moment, trying to look as casual as possible without looping around to desperate, while Jake considers.

“Okay,” he says at last. “What do you want to watch?”

You retrieve your laptop and boot it up while you think. “Puppy documentary,” you suggest.

He rolls his eyes at you in the half-light of the computer glow and slides up to the headboard so you can balance the laptop across your legs. “That’ll definitely put me to sleep,” he grumbles.

Humor is probably safe. “At last, we’ve discovered after years of searching a kind of movie Jake English doesn't like—”

He jabs you in the side and you cut off, startled.

“Documentaries are excellent,” he tells you, “but there’s a certain mood necessary for them. Much like nonfiction.”

“Books?”

He nods. You bring up some Earth C documentary on service dogs despite his protests that this isn’t the right setting for it, and Jake, predictably, is cheered by watching the service puppies get trained. You try not to feel pleased with yourself, or unaccountably warmed by the sight of him smiling.

“Dogs are nice,” he says through a yawn as the film winds down.

 _You’re nice,_ you think, and then blame the thought on the time of night. “They’re pretty cute.”

“Mm,” Jake agrees, and gradually falls asleep on your shoulder.

You hold your breath, hit pause, reposition Jake on his pillow, and ease your computer down to the floor. Then you lay down, facing Jake, and wait to drift back off.

When you wake up Jake hasn’t left yet. He opens his eyes when you stir. You’re not sure if he was still sleeping or not.

“Do you want something to eat before you go?” you ask once you’re awake enough to process that he’s still here.

He considers it for a moment, then shrugs. You take it as assent. In only sort of awkward silence, you make him toast, which is the only breakfast food other than cereal that you can prepare reliably. Jake is still there, watching, but quiet, so you wrap the toast in a paper towel and hand it to him so he can leave.

He looks down at the it when you hand it over. “Thanks, Dirk,” he says quietly, and goes.

You think to yourself, _this is not going to end well._


	2. night chills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> painful conversations and painless conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some heavy topics being discussed ahead (sexual harassment and threats, violent dreams being brought up briefly and non-graphically)

A week or so later, you’re both lying awake far enough into the morning where it becomes a question of whether or not it’s worth it to go back to sleep, but also early enough still that you’re heavily disinclined towards movement. This is when Jake speaks. 

“You never told me what your nightmares are about,” he says. 

You force yourself out of your weird half-awake state to consider the question. “Do you want to hear about them?” you hazard. 

Jake shrugs. “It only seems fair. You’ve been listening to me go off about mine, after all.” 

The problem is that you’re still not sure if Jake says things like that because he does want to hear about your nightmares, or because he thinks he should reciprocate because you’ve been trying to help him. The other problem is that he gets really annoyed if you question him about this so you can’t confirm one way or another. 

“They’re usually not… so violent,” you say slowly, trying to decide how much detail you want to go into. “It’s mostly bad things happening, and me not being able to do anything to stop it. One or all of you guys dying, and being unable to save you. Or...” You trail off, not wanting to expand on the other kind of nightmare you have. 

“Or?” Jake asks. You glance at him sideways and find that he’s turned his head to look at you, seemingly relaxed for once where he’s sprawled out on his stomach, lit only by the gray predawn light. 

Uncomfortably, you answer, “Sometimes I dream that I hurt someone.” 

Jake is quiet for a long moment. “Physically, you mean?” 

You want this conversation to be over so badly that your skin is crawling. “Or with words.” 

It’s takes a painful amount of time for you to drag your gaze back over to Jake. His expression is just thoughtful. He’s chewing on his lip and looking at you consideringly. You have to look away again. 

“Thanks for telling me,” Jake says at last. You have to try to bite down the hysterical laughter that immediately bubbles up in you. He seems to sense your skepticism because he adds, “No, I mean that. I’m… glad to know.” 

You don’t say anything to that, figuring it’s safer. 

“I could tell you about, um, one of my worse nightmares?” he offers. “If we’re trying to be fair and square about the whole thing.” 

“Don’t feel obligated,” you say, giving up on your pretense of being a normal person about his feelings. 

Jake falls quiet again, but when he speaks you’re distinctly relieved at the lack of annoyance in his voice. “No, I wanted to tell you anyway.” 

“Well,” you say. “In that case.” You’d gesture for him to go on, but it’s dark and you’re both pretty close together so you’re more likely to whack him in the face by accident than you are to successfully convey anything. 

“Are you… being sarcastic?” Now Jake sounds hesitant. 

You feel like an asshole. “No, that was genuine. You can tell me.” Someone needs to tell Jake to stay away from you or something because you can practically feel yourself preemptively fucking up and he deserves better anyway. 

Jake accepts this after another moment. “Did you… has anyone ever told you about what happened directly after we went god tier?” 

You frown at the ceiling. “You and Roxy went to jail on Derse, Jane and Jade were kind of evil, everyone else showed up and you broke out, Jane killed Roxy but then a slightly different Roxy showed up fine a bit later.” 

“More or less,” Jake agrees. “But I meant… while we were in jail. Has Jane talked to you about that?” 

“Uh… no. Should she have?” 

He sighs. “Maybe. I dunno.” 

When you look at him again you find that he’s buried his face in the pillow again. His shoulders are very tense. 

“You really don’t have to—” you start to say. 

“For Christ’s fucking sake, Dirk, if I don’t tell someone I’ll explode, so just shut up for a minute,” Jake says, muffled. 

You shut your mouth for the foreseeable future. 

“Thank you,” he says, and unpeels from his pillow. “I guess what I’m getting at is that she, um, threatened me. In a sense.” 

You try to look as nonverbally encouraging as possible. 

“She… It sounds even stupider outside my head,” Jake mutters. “You know how… when we were tricksters. You remember.” 

You definitely remember. Jake catches whatever expression you’re wearing and half-winces, half-nods. 

“Well, that. When we said that… we were all going to get married and have babies. Jane, when she was evil I mean, she said that she would… make me. Do that.” 

He puts his head back into the pillow and seemingly just breathes for a few moments. You are absolutely uncertain as to how you can be comforting right now, or if you should even try. 

“Young and beautiful and immortal and in love, forever and ever,” Jake finally says. “That’s what she said, I think. That she was going to make me have children with her and she only cared about—what I—my body. I really feel like such a blithering ass about this. It’s not like she meant it.” 

“But it felt real,” you say, before you can stop yourself. 

“Yeah,” Jake says quietly. “I suppose it did. I’ve certainly rattled it through my own skull enough times to make it seem so. Jane never brought it up herself, and I’ve got no idea what to make of that.” 

“Do you want to know what I think, or do you want to keep talking?” you ask. 

“Oh, no, you can talk now, sorry,” he says. You think maybe the sun’s getting close to rising. You can see most of the details of his face now. The way his furrowed eyebrows leave a crease in his forehead. The downward twist of his mouth. 

“I think she probably was, and is, very embarrassed, and ashamed,” you say. “So she never said anything, and when you never said anything she tried her best to forget about it, and hopes it doesn’t come up.” 

“But how could she forget?” Jake suddenly demands. “It’s not like—I was bawling my eyes out like a frigging child the whole time, it’s not like I was acting interested in the idea! I was—I begged her to stop. She said that if I wasn’t — that she’d have killed me and fed me to Jade if I weren’t—”

“Jake, fuck,” you say, helplessly, as he turns away again, shaking this time. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault,” he chokes out. 

“I know, I just meant—that it’s awful. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Touching him can’t possibly be the right choice, but you want to wrap him up and hold onto him, reassure the both of you that you’re here and safe, in your bedroom, with his memories only being of the past. “If I could have been there I would,” you add, uselessly. 

“You were there,” Jake says, a little more steadily. “Brain Ghost Dirk, I mean.” 

You process this for a moment and roll onto your side, facing him. “Brain ghost what now?” 

Jake coughs out a laugh and props his head back up on his arms. “One of your splinters, I suppose. He couldn’t help me, though. He wasn’t real enough.” 

“Well—” How did you not know about this. “Well, fuck him then, if he couldn’t help you. He’d have to be a pretty shitty version of me if he couldn’t be a good enough—friend—to help you out.” This obviously is a bad time to ask for more information about apparently yet another iteration of your splintered self, but—what the actual fuck. 

He just sighs. His face is dry but his eyes are a little red. “I don’t know. I suppose eventually this’ll all stop feeling like such a big ole catastrophe. Thanks for listening.” 

“Of course,” you say, because for all that you’re kind of shitty at it, you always want to hear what Jake thinks. 

“The worst bit is,” Jake finishes, “is that I can’t think about what people might think of me without hearing what she said. I wouldn’t know how I could feel comfortable with people I don’t know well thinking about me, like that.” 

Okay, this one’s probably a little out of your pay grade as ex-boyfriend, but you give it a shot, anyway. “Then stick with people you trust for as long as you need until you feel comfortable again. We literally have the rest of forever, and it’s not like it would be that big of a deal if you didn’t want to… interact with people casually around the idea of… physical things.” 

“People I trust, yes,” Jake says quietly. 

You think maybe you’ve officially lost track of this conversation, so you don’t answer that specifically, just shrug and say, “Do what’s right for you.” 

He, in turn, doesn’t answer you either, and says, “It’s probably too late to go back to sleep, isn’t it?” 

When you look at the window again the light is definitely changing over to warm. “Unless you feel like sleeping in.” 

“No, I should…” He groans and sits up. “Get some clean clothes or something. I don’t really want to wander around caked in mud.” 

It’s true that he’d had to ditch his shorts as soon as possible last night. You’d asked if he’d been rolling around in dirt or something, and he’d laughed. 

“Sure,” you say, then add, “You should keep some extra shirts or something here. So you don’t have to wear the same clothes in the morning.” 

He hesitates. 

“No big deal,” you add hastily. “I just mean — it’s not like I don’t have space. And you have your own toothbrush already. Just made sense to me.” Time to stop talking. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Jake says. “I’d appreciate fresh socks in the mornings, at least.” He picks his glasses off the windowsill and starts to crawl to the end of the bed. You sit up so he can avoid hitting your feet and run a hand through your hair. It’s very crunchy and unpleasant to touch. This is definitely too early in the morning for you. You yawn and rub your face a few times, trying to feel awake. Maybe you’ll take a nap in a bit. When you refocus on the room Jake’s standing there looking at you. 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

He shakes his head. “No, nothing. See you tonight?” 

“See you,” you say, an echo, and he leaves, muddy pants in hand, wearing his stupid striped boxers that you always said were ridiculous. 

You flop back down and wait for the sound Jake cursing to himself as he puts his shorts on, then a pause for his shoes, then the front door latching shut behind him. Your head is buzzing, eyes burning, throat dry. There’s no way you could look Jane in the eye right now and act normal and you can’t shake the image of Jake crying all alone from your mind. Oh, and on top of that — another heart splinter. You grind your palms into your eyes for a second, trying to stay calm. “Fuck,” you say to the ceiling. Your voice is mostly flat, but when you get up to stumble into the shower your hands start shaking badly enough that you drop your shampoo with a clunk loud enough to startle you. Pick it up, you tell yourself, then lean your head against the wall for a few minutes, holding the bottle and doing your best to keep your breathing steady.

 

* * *

 

Jake is there that night, seeming normal, but the next he isn’t there. He warns you that morning, says, “I might — I’m thinking of taking a few nights off, is that okay,” like he needs your permission. You promise that it’s fine, that he should take care of himself, and that’s that. The only thing that really is changed by his absence is that you’re no good at putting yourself to sleep without him around to match sleeping patterns with, so you stay up very late one night, reveling in internet anonymity and the sheer joy of talking to strangers as much as you want, whenever you want. You sleep late the next day and finally get around to meeting Callie for tea. 

You’re only out for an hour or two, both easily made uneasy by large crowds. While in theory you like the idea of it, being surrounded by people, invisible to them and being swept along by so much moving energy, in practice you’re too jumpy, too used to waiting for something to attack. Calliope mostly is overwhelmed by it. 

“It’s just a lot,” she says as the two of you find a corner to sit in. People have recognized you, especially her, being the only cherub around, but mostly you’ve been left alone. 

“Yeah, I feel that,” you agree, and do your best to keep her distracted and engaged with you, so that she can enjoy the tea and commiserate with you about how there’s barely anyone left who knows what Britain was. She stirs eight sugar cubes into her tea, giggling a little guiltily, and drinks from a straw. 

“I’ve chipped a lot of ceramic things already, with my teeth,” she explains. “Roxy says it’s fine, but I’d much rather not be a nuisance about it.” The way she smiles with the straw stuck right between her teeth is somewhere between hilarious and endearing. You want to take a picture and send it to Roxy, but Calliope hides her face in embarrassment and won’t let you. 

“I really doubt you could be a nuisance to Roxy,” you say. “She’s crazy about you. You could start chewing on the furniture like a rabid dog and she’d call you a refined, cultured gentlewoman.” 

Turns out, Calliope can blush. You’re still smiling about this in your head when you leave not too much later. 

“If it’s not too presumptuous,” she says shyly, when your ways home diverge and you have to say goodbye, “I thought maybe we could draw together sometime? You said you’d let me see something you drew, after I showed you some of my art. If you have time, that’s all.”

“No, that sounds great,” you say with total sincerity. “Just let me know, whenever you want. I’m available.” 

“Oh, lovely!” she says, and steps back, waving goodbye with a quick wiggle of her fingers. “I’ll see you soon, then, Dirk!” 

“Bye, Callie,” you say, and wave too. 

You take a longer route home, to avoid walking in front of Jane’s house. It’s… You’re not totally sure, yet, how you want to proceed. It wouldn’t be right for you to ask her, not when Jake was clearly confiding a secret in you. So you’ll have to be sure you can act natural, next time you see her. 

Your phone starts beeping at you as you’re just getting home, and you pull it out to check your messages as you kick your shoes off. They’re from Jake. 

You close them without reading and go to your room to use your laptop instead. 

GT: Hey there.    


GT: Umm so i have a bit of a question to ask you.    


GT: Its nothing bad! But jade and i have been talking a lot and well.    


GT: Were making plans to go see my old island.    


GT: It turns out that consort kingdom is actually sort of near there. The centralmost location anyway.    


GT: Since the consorts are amphibious they took to tropical climates pretty well. So they live on the nearest coast.    


TT: Hi.    


GT: Oh hi.    


TT: So you’re planning on taking a trip to your island?    


GT: Yes sort of.    


TT: That’s cool. 

You try to think of something to say about Jade, to say hi from you or something even though you’ve only had about two conversations with her, ever, but you’re cut off before you can try to compose it. 

GT: Yes well erm.    


GT: I was actually planning on asking if you wanted to come with us.    


TT: Oh.    


GT: Obviously you can say no if you dont want to!! No pressure or anything like that.    


TT: I don’t know. I can probably come. When were you planning on leaving?    


GT: This weekend actually. Its not too last minute is it? We were going to see the island on saturday and maybe sunday then go see the capital of consort kingdom.    


TT: I mean, yeah. I always wanted to see your island. Jade’s cool with it?    


GT: Yeah she was totally onboard when i asked! Though to be candid i think she mostly wants to pick your brain on robotics.    


TT: Ha. Well, I’m sure I can oblige.    


GT: Well great then! Ill tell jade that you can come.    


TT: Alright, see you Saturday. Should I bring anything in particular?    


GT: Oh i was actually planning on coming by tonight if thats good with you? I can just tell you then.    


TT: That’s fine. See you soon, then.    


(You’re privately pleased with your okay-ness with Jake’s absence the past few days. Good job, self, didn’t fuck it up.)

When Jake shows up he’s very excited and more cheerfully talkative than he’s been in a while, so you mostly listen to him tell you about things he wants to look for on his island, if the plants have changed dramatically, if his room will still be there, how water damaged it will be, each followed by a variety of stories from his childhood. Many of the stories are ones that were relayed to you the same day they happened, back before the game, but he’s so genuinely happy that you wouldn’t be able to mind the retellings if you tried. 

Besides, the two of you haven’t had many normal conversations in recent memory. You’ll take Jake standing in the doorway while you brush your teeth to tell you about his last attempt to swim in the ocean only to discover concerningly large seahorses over awkward silence and emotionally fraught discussion any day. 

“Seahorses of unusual size,” you suggest, bending to rinse some of the gel out of your hair in the sink. You look sideways at him and he’s grinning at you. 

“Exactamently,” Jake says. That’s a new word. He probably made it up on the spot. Your hair is more floppy now, so you dry it off and follow him to bed. It’s a good thing you’re not particularly tired, having slept so late, because even once the lights are off and your shades have been stowed away for some time and your hair has dried again, Jake will whisper, “Are you still awake?” in order to tell you some new thing he’s thought of that he’s too excited not to share. 

You’re glad for the darkness. You’re reasonably sure what your face is broadcasting right now would be pretty embarrassing if anyone could see it. 

Eventually, though, some time after the sixth time he does this, he starts to drift off, and the combination of the darkness and the weight of the arm he has slung across your chest starts to lull you to sleep as well. You slip in and out of sleep for a while, sometimes startling awake, mostly not. At one point, asleep enough not to care but not asleep enough to be aware that you’re not really awake anymore, you rub tiny circles on Jake’s arm, near his elbow. He doesn’t wake up from this, and you soon fall deeper enough to sleep to stop moving. Eventually you stop waking back up, and sleep through until the sun’s shining too brightly on your face to keep sleeping any longer. 

Jake doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. He pours you both bowls of cereal while you slump against the sink and rub your eyes, still not feeling too alert yet. 

“Sorry for all of my jabbering last night,” he says as he digs out two clean spoons. 

You accept the spoon. “It’s cool, dude. I didn’t mind.” 

He nods. Neither of you are bothering to sit at the table. You hop up to sit on the counter and Jake leans against one nearby. The room falls silent except for the sound of chewing and your spoons hitting the bowls. One of your windows is partly open, and you can hear a few birds outside. It’s… very peaceful. Jake still looks relaxed, hair disheveled and his pajama shirt stretched at the collar from many nights of sleeping in it. For once, you don’t feel like you should be worrying. Jake could go if he wanted to, but he’s still here, so it’s fine. 

He catches you looking at him and half-grins around his spoon. The sudden impulse to try to kiss him is so strong that you look away hastily. You attack your cereal with great vigor as he moves to rinse his bowl out. He knocks up against your knee briefly and you scoot away, ostensibly to give him more room. Apparently it’s time to wrangle your brain into order. Again. You wait for him to move back before you dump your bowl into the sink. 

“I might be here tonight, but if I’m not, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Jake asks. 

“You’ll see me, one way or another,” you say, and slide down from the counter. “And Jade too, I guess.” 

“Right-o,” Jake agrees. “Well, I suppose I’ll get my things and head out, then.” He takes a half step back towards your bedroom. 

“Sure,” you say. You fill the time before he returns with washing the dishes. By hand, out of force of habit that you never bothered to break. Your hands are still damp when the door to your room opens again. Jake’s dressed now. He hovers in the space between the kitchen and the way to the front door. 

“‘Til later,” he says. 

“See you,” you repeat. 

He hesitates for a second longer, but then departs without saying anything more.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if youve got questions about the fic or just want to chat you can find me [on tumblr @oceanboydirk](oceanboydirk.tumblr.com)
> 
> this chapter was supposed to actually contain the trip to the island but that would have doubled the chapter length so that'll be next time. :)


	3. blood running hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dirk, jake, and jade go to the beach. and also a volcano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: hey can i get a fuckin uhhh consistent chapter lengths  
> my fic: logical place to pause the story machine broke
> 
> as a consolation prize, here's 15000 words. can you believe i originally thought that the trip to the island would all be a part of chapter two? wild.

Jade Harley stands next to the transportalizer, grinning at you, hands on her hips. You raise an eyebrow in response.

“Well, look who it is!” she says. “Dirk Strider himself. I’d recognize those awful neon shorts anywhere. Do you talk this soon after waking up, or should I give you a few hours to warm up?”

“Wow, I haven’t so much as said hello and I’m already being owned like a chump,” you say. “I was going to say nice to see you, but I’m feeling like I want to rescind that. Although I’m pretty sure I’m infamous for talking too much, so I’m not sure where you’d get that idea.”

“From Rose, duh,” she says, and drops her hands to relax into a more casual posture. “She couldn’t be coherent when she’s sleepy if the fate of the world depended on it, and everyone says you two are super alike, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” you agree. The room is small, and empty but for the two of you. “Where’s Jake?”

“He’s on his way, went back for something he forgot,” Jade says. “He should be here any second.”

You nod. “And this transportalizer, it’s taking us to consort kingdom, or the island?”

“Consort kingdom, and then we’re getting another one from there to the island, I think specifically to the frog temple,” Jade says. “The consorts installed it ages ago when they made Jake’s island a sort of national monument? Something like that.”

Speaking of, Jade’s ears twitch towards the door, which opens again to admit Jake. He’s wearing his hiking boots. You guess this means that flying around his island is out of the question.

“Hi!” he says. “Do you both have everything?”

“Yeah, are you sure you do, though?” Jade counters immediately. “We can wait for you to go back again if we have to.” She doesn’t stick her tongue out, but you picture her typing out a :P anyway.

Jake rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I got everything, thanks. You, Dirk?”

“I’m good,” you say, and even though he probably can’t tell through your shades, you slide your gaze away from him anyway.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Jade says. “Just remember that it’s going to be really early in the morning in consort kingdom, so let’s be quiet when we get there. It won’t take long to get to the next transportalizer pad.”  

“Sure thing!” Jake replies. You follow them both through the transportalizer…

...And are immediately swamped by consorts.

Jade plows into the midst of them. “Hi!” she says in a tone of surprised delight to each consort as they swarm her. Some of them head for you, where you’ve frozen next to the transportalizer, and Jake, who is watching Jade with hesitant curiosity.

A crocodile begins chewing on the hem of your shorts. The rest of them are all talking at once, which takes you a second to parse. A lot of them are _nak_ -ing. “Creator Dirk, Creator Dirk,” others repeat.

“Hello,” you say, bemused, and try to tug your shorts away gently.

The crocodile relinquishes you in favor of joining the chorus of _nak_ s. Jade has squatted down and seems to be having a serious conversation with a turtle.

“They’re very friendly,” Jake says from right next to you. You try not to startle at his sudden appearance and fail. Somehow he got closer without you noticing.

“Apparently,” you say.

“I like them better than the skeletons,” Jake adds. You nod.

“Thank you!” says a salamander at your knees. You both look at it. “I have a skeleton as well, of course, but it is inside my body and not visible.”

“Well, so long as your skeleton doesn’t attack me,” Jake says.

“Nak!” says the salamander.

“Guys, this way!” Jade says, waving you over towards a door, so you wade through the consorts. They move out of the way readily enough.

“Safe travels!” says an iguana.

“Bye everyone!” Jade returns, and you go through the door with Jade’s turtle escort.

The new room is small, and has a single transportalizer pad. On the wall across from you are inscribed the symbols of Hope and Space. Now that you aren’t being unexpectedly bombarded, you feel the change in the air. It’s heavier in a way. Warmer, definitely, but the humidity gives the air weight. Very tropical.

“Where was this, on old earth?” you ask.

“Vietnam,” Jade answers. “The capital of consort kingdom is in what used to be Cambodia.”

“Consort kingdom extends up over the top of the largest mountain range, while more carapaces live to our west, remaining below the mountains. It’s believed that the Maryam mountain range was known to you as the Himalayas,” the turtle says, in a slow, clicking voice. “We also live on the islands to the south and east, with the exception of the largest. Many of us find desert temperatures disagreeable, though some choose to live there nonetheless, remaining on the coastal cities of all kingdoms.”

 _Australia_ , Jade mouths at you helpfully. You remember this. It was interesting to learn about who had chosen which climates, and why. Carapacians withstood heat the best, but preferred to live in social communities. Some might choose to live in the desert, but never alone. This meant that the consorts stuck to the coasts with a small smattering of humans and very few trolls, who were the most sensitive to heat and excessive sunlight, while the carapacians ventured all over.

“It is a pleasure to have our creators return,” the turtle adds. “I hope your visit to your old home will be enjoyable.”

“Thank you,” Jake says. “For keeping my — our island as it was, I mean.”

“Certainly,” the turtle says, and seemingly steps back to allow you to access the transportalizer.

“See you on the way back,” Jade says to him, and once again leads the way through the transportalizer.

The first thing you notice: the sound and smell and taste of the ocean, so strong and overpowering that you almost sway on the spot, tossed back into fifteen, nearly sixteen years of a childhood of endless waves that you never saw hit a shore. You have to take a second to collect yourself, to breathe in the salt and let it settle in you system without losing yourself to memories. Your eyes have involuntarily fallen shut, so you open them again. Jade is leaning out a window. Jake is between the two of you like he’d been following her, but had stopped when he noticed that you hadn’t moved.

“We’re in the frog temple!” Jade says. “Look, there’s the jungle!” She turns back to look at you two and hesitates. “Guys?”

“I’m good,” you say, to her question and Jake’s unspoken one. “Just haven’t been near the ocean in a while.” You start towards her and she’s right, you can see the jungle from the window. Jake joins you as well.

“It looks pretty similar, right?” Jade asks.

“Yeah,” Jake says. “Doesn’t look like anything’s changed much at all, does it?”

They stare out with similar expressions, thoughtful and reminiscing. Then Jade shifts to mischievous.

“Last one to the beach gets a dunk in the water,” Jade says, and is out the window before you finish processing the sentence.

“What—hey!” Jake says, and vaults out after her, so then you have to chase them both, and you always forget how loud the air is when you try to fly really fast, it rushes by in your ears to the point that it nearly swallows the sound of Jake laughing, and Jade, too, spinning at the last moment to land neatly on her feet in the sand, and, yeah. Jake beats you to her side.

“Time for a new hairdo!” Jade says to you. Jake, like a traitor, says nothing to defend you, just continues to laugh helplessly.

“Okay, okay,” you say, still hovering a few inches above the ground. “Can I dunk myself, or—”

“Nope, hold still and hold your breath,” Jade says, arms abruptly outstretched and reaching for you. You dart back immediately but she lunges forward and almost grabs you.

“A little help here?” you say to Jake.

“Sure thing,” he says, cheerfully, too cheerfully, shit, you can’t escape both of them without making it not lighthearted, fuck. Jade grabs your arm while you’re distracted by thinking and trying to slink back from Jake’s approach.

“Fuck, come on,” you say. “At least let me—” And Jake takes ahold of the back of your shirt and your other arm. Jade’s free hand comes up towards your face unexpectedly, making you flinch for real, and then you’re underwater.

You manage to kick someone’s leg and stay mostly up (though your hair is, as Jade predicted, going to be a total mess with saltwater and some of the gel gone). After only a moment you resurface, spluttering.

“Guess I know who my real friends are,” you say, and hover upside down to let your hair drip. “Not you assholes, anyway.”

Jade is giggling. Jake looks unfairly innocent. “What are you talking about, dude? Roxy would totally dunk you. Jane, too.”

“Yeah, I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t think that was funny,” Jade says, offering your shades back. “I don’t think Dave would do that, but only because he’d be too busy running away to escape the same fate.”

You accept your shades begrudgingly, and flip back upright. “Keep telling yourself that,” you say, for lack of a better response, and trying to smooth your hair back a little. Yeah, no way that’s not going to dry really weirdly.

“Stop being vain about your hair,” Jake says, once again demonstrating that he knows you a little too well. “Let’s go see the jungle! A rare, limited no monster edition.”

“Not rare anymore,” you point out, but land on the small beach anyway. You look around curiously. The sand is dark gray, almost black, and out of the water and up to the line where the vegetation starts are funny clumps of plants with long — stems? trunks? They look like their root systems are out of the water, or like they’re propped up on stilts. “What are these plants?”

“Mangroves,” Jake says. “There’s more of them on the edge of the island furthest from the volcano.”

“This isn’t really the right area for them,” Jade adds in. “They like mud a lot. It’s too sandy over here for them. They’re really cool though! If you lick the leaves they’re salty because they have to filter out so much salt from the water.”

“That’s cool, though I think I’ll pass on the licking,” you say.

“Lame,” Jade says, wrinkling her nose. “Should we get going, then?”

“Is this a walking tour or a flying tour?”

“Why can’t it be both?” she says. “Everyone brought food, right? We can have a picnic later if we get tired of wandering around.”

You shrug. “Sounds good to me.”

“A tip-top idea,” Jake says, bouncing on the tips of his toes. He’s gone into full adventurer mode, hasn’t he. Unfortunately, you’re sort of infamous for thinking that he’s cute when he’s being ridiculous. No flirting means no snide commentary allowed.

“Alright!” Jade says. “Where to first?”

“We can head towards where my globe used to be,” Jake says. “Dunno if it’ll still be there, but it’s worth checking.” He takes a half step towards the trees. “Shall we?”

You and Jade follow him in, leaving behind the small beach and the clusters of plants sticking out of the water. The jungle swallows you pretty quickly, though you can hear the roar of the surf for a while still. The trees sort of close you in overhead, though the sunlight still trickles through. The ground starts off soft and sandy underfoot, with short gnarled trees growing up from it. Everything is very green. You touch the trunk of a tree as you duck past some of the bigger branches. It’s very smooth. The trunk is a light, almost gray-brown. Nothing like the heavy brown bark of the trees where you’ve been living.

“Is it like you remembered?” Jake asks.

“Pretty much,” Jade says. “I mean, not exactly, because nothing’s familiar. But I recognize the plants, I think. How about you?”

“Similar, for sure,” Jake says. He holds back some smaller branches for the two of you. “Though it’s certainly… different. It’s tricky to say how.”

They fall to silence again. You don’t mind. It’s hot, and you’re busy listening to the sounds around you, buzzing and clicking and what you think might be birds, though not birds you recognize by sound. The ground grows less slippery underfoot, and thicker, until you’re climbing up, soil dislodging from around the exposed roots of a different kind of tree. Jade scrambles up the incline easily and leans against one of the trees, head tilted up towards the sunshine. She grins, wide and happy. “Everyone good?”

“Yeah,” Jake says. You can hear in his voice that’s he’s happy, too. You also affirm that you’re doing fine.

“Don’t forget to drink water,” Jade reminds you. “The humidity is going to make you sweat more, plus we’ve got to keep going up a ways before we really hit jungly area.”

“She’s right,” Jake says, stopping next to her and turning around. You were right. He’s smiling. “We already agreed that if you pass out from dehydration we’ll use your body as bait for any lingering monsters, since the flying ones might have survived, so you’d better be careful.”

“Well, that’s an incentive if I’ve ever heard one,” you say dryly as Jade cracks up, and take out a water bottle. Jade is right, though. Your shirt is already starting to stick to you, and your dislodged hair wants to cling to your forehead in a very annoying way. You brush it back across your scalp and hope it stays.

By mutual agreement you start up again. The slope isn’t too bad, though there are still some spots where you have to scramble up. Mostly you just follow them and listen as they compare memories and talk about the plants. You listen with half your attention but spend the rest of it genuinely enjoying the landscape. You were right about the birds. There are several varieties fluttering around that you don’t recognize. You try to listen and categorize their calls, to see if you start to recognize any of them as being of the same species. Unfortunately the three of you are disturbing the wildlife somewhat by tromping around and having regular volume discussions. Still, it’s interesting. The trees get darker and closer together as you progress, and the groundcover sprouts up heavily until you all are picking your steps carefully, trying not to crush any more plants than necessary. It really is all very new to you. Tall, smooth stalks extend up toward the tree layer. Moss grows along the ground. Some of the trees drape back down towards you, but most stay tall, a mix of small, thick leaves and broad, lengthier ones. The air gets even heavier — muggier. You can almost taste the moisture in the air.

“Should have brought John,” Jade says, squinting up at the sky. “Is it going to rain, you think?”

“Seems likely, doesn’t it?” Jake says. “It’s about that time of year. Good thing it’s still early.”

“Early?” you ask.

“We’re at the start of the rainy season,” Jake clarifies. He shifts his attention to you. “You alright? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Just taking in the sights,” you say. You’re unsure how to explain your reluctance to interject to their conversation. Maybe it’s that you feel they deserve to share the island between themselves. That, though you’re fine with it, you’re an outsider to the fact that they’re family.

“Are they to your liking?” Jake prompts.

“Yeah,” you say. “This is a really cool place. Or a better adjective than cool.”

That gets another grin from him. You all are just winning the lottery on English smiles today. “It is, isn’t it?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’m glad I can finally show you around, even if it is thousands of years too late.”

“Better late than never,” you offer. “I’m… glad to finally be able to be here. I always did want to see it. Your island.”

...Jade is also grinning at you, ear to ear. Her ears are twitching like she’s trying not to laugh. You are immediately embarrassed.

“We must be pretty far inland by now, right?” you say in the world’s most transparent attempt to change the subject.

“I think we’re close to where my globe is. Or was.” Jake looks around the area like it might suddenly loom out from behind a tree. “I might be a bit lost.”

“We’re in the center, ish,” Jade confirms.

“But isn’t it nice to go for a wander?” Jake says with reinvigorated enthusiasm. “We’ll find it eventually, I’m sure of it.”

A drop of rain lands on your glasses.

“Hopefully soon,” Jake amends.

It takes about five minutes before it’s pouring. Jake thought ahead and brought a tarp, apparently, so you all huddle under it for a while. Jake’s arm and side are pressed against you. Jade is similarly close to him, on his other side. Jake complains that his arms are going to get tired from holding the tarp up over you all. He rests an elbow on your shoulder. You are finding it difficult to breathe.

“How long will this last?” you ask. Your toes are feeling damp.

“Uh…” Jake says. You can feel the vibrations of his voice against your ribs. Fuck. “It could be a while. Or not! We won’t know until it lightens up.”

“Great,” you say.

“Don’t be a sourpuss, we can get to know each other better!” Jade says. “I need to confirm some facts with you, anyway.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure. Fire away.”

“So you and Jake have been friends for ages, right?” she asks.

“...Yes,” you say.

“And you knew about me? His penpal?”

“Yeah. He made you a rabbit robot,” you say. “Him having a cross dimensional penpal was not the strangest thing about our lives, to be honest. Weird, but not unbelievable.”

“Sorta sums everything up,” Jake says. “Weird but not unbelievable.”

“Yep,” you say, tucking your feet up closer to you. This movement dislodges Jake slightly. He resettles quickly.

“Yeah, me and Jake made the bunny together for John!” Jade says. “He named it Liv Tyler.”

“Terry Kiser,” Jake says.

“What?” she asks.

“That’s what I called it. The bunny.”

“Isn’t Terry Kiser that awful actor from Weekend at Bernies,” you say. You already know the answer to this. The answer is Jake whacking the back of your head.

“Yeah and he’s not awful, he’s great,” he says. “I guess it’s fair that John renamed it, though.”

“Dave and Rose blew it up,” Jade adds.

“Well fuck if that isn’t an appropriately dramatic ending,” you say.

Jade laughs. “Yeah, I guess! But you guys made robots too, right?”

Ah. You think this is the segue into robotics that Jake warned you about. “Mostly Jake and me, but yeah.”

“Uh, details, please,” Jade presses when you pause.

“Okay, okay, let me think,” you say. “I made a pair of robots when I was younger. One of them’s purpose was pretty much solely rapping. The other one could rap, too — actually he kicked ass at rapping, I never beat him. But he kicked ass in general. He had rocket blasters. Jake made your bunny, like we said, and we sort of collaborated on — this other robot.”

“Yeah, the robot version of you, right?” Jade says. “Jake told me about it already. I just think that it’s really interesting. You know that my grandpa made a robot version of me?”

You twist around Jake to look at her. “Seriously?”

“Jadebot!” Jade says. “He built her to take over when I was sleeping to convey what was happening on Prospit. My friends thought she was a little annoying, because she’d answer messages but wasn’t very coherent. But she had a whole bunch of arms and could fly around.”

“That’s… pretty similar,” you say.

“That’s what I said!”

“Weird coincidence, right?” Jake says.

“Probably that’s just you, dude,” you say. “For the most part I was just following steps that people had already figured out, you know. I’d send you the parts and try to explain how to put them together but I’d blink and you’d have figured out a way to do it that was actually less convoluted than my method.”

You think Jade nudges Jake because he flinches closer to you for a second. “See, I told you, didn’t I?” she says triumphantly. “Dirk, did you know that it was my grandpa that invented Sburb in our timeline?”

“Huh, really?” you say.

“Yeah, the glyphs in the frog temple tell you the code for the game. He pieced it together and ended up releasing it through his company. You guys had SkaiaNet, right?”

“Thanks to you,” you say. “I’m not surprised at all, honestly. Jake’s always been really good with these sorts of things.”

“Aww, he’s blushing,” Jade says.

“No I’m not,” Jake says quickly.

“You totally are,” she disagrees.

Jake pulls the tarp away from her to cover his face. Jade yelps and smacks him, trying to wiggle back underneath. He snags the tarp under his foot.

“Jake, you dick!” Jade yells over the rain.

“Your ears are kinda red,” you say.

“Shut up or you’re going out in the rain too,” Jake says from beneath his hand.

Jade grabs the tarp and drags it up, pulling it most of the way off of you.

“Hey!” you say as you get suddenly splattered with rain, and yank it back. Jade shoves her way back under and smears her wet sleeves over Jake.

“Do that again and I’m wringing my hair out in your underwear,” she threatens.

“How would you…” you start.

“Believe me, Dirk, I’ll find a way,” Jade says darkly, and reinsconsces herself firmly beneath the tarp. Jake relents and props it back up.

“I’d rather stay dry, so maybe let’s lay off on talking about robots,” you say, and then add, teasing, “Even though Jake is pretty much a stand up gent of the highest caliber.”

“One more word out of you and I swear you’ll get it,” Jake says. You subside. Jade snickers.

“I think it’s lightening up, anyway,” she says.

She’s right. The continual drumming over your heads is easing.

“I think my globe is just a bit to the east of us,” Jake says, clearly determined to maintain the subject change. “So once the rain lets up we can head that way.”

“Sure,” you say. Jade also affirms this plan.

“How is John, by the way?” Jake asks Jade. “I’m afraid I haven’t been talking to him as much as I should.”

“He’s alright,” Jade says. “I think he’s a little weirded out by everyone thinking about moving to different kingdoms. I know Rose and Kanaya are pretty serious about it.”

“That makes sense,” Jake says. “Though I mean, it’s not like anyone would be all that far apart? Not with transportalizers and such.”

“I think it’s the principle of the thing.” Jade sounds contemplative. You wonder if she has plans that she’s not talking about. She doesn’t seem like the type to mull things over, but you never know. Jake certainly thinks about difficult things more than he ever lets on.

“Can you hold the tarp a minute?” Jake asks you. You prop it up and he sticks a hand out. The back of your neck immediately feels cold. “It’s chiefly just dripping now, I think. We should be good.”

You each unfurl yourselves from your hastily constructed shelter. Both Jade and Jake look somewhat bedraggled, Jade moreso after her brief but thorough showering. You suspect you’re no better. It’s still warm out, but it’s not quite as bad when you feel damp from water and not sweat. This probably won’t last long.

“East, then?” you say.

“Eastward!” Jake says. You follow him.

He turns out to be dead on. You find his old home within fifteen minutes. It is extremely weatherworn, covered in moss and vines, but recognizably once a human-built structure.

“You figure it’s safe to go in?” Jake asks eventually, after you’ve all stand around staring at it for a few minutes.

“Try flying in so you don’t touch anything,” you suggest.

“Guess the pumpkins didn’t survive the millennia,” Jake says. There is definitely a lack of pumpkins, though you feel like this maybe isn’t the season for them. All the vines you see look pretty jungly to you, rather than vegetably.

“You lived out here?” Jade asks.

“After the explosion, yeah,” Jake says. He approaches the globe cautiously, like it might attack. You trail after him.

“You coming in?” he asks.

“Sure, if that’s alright,” you say.

“Yeah, come on,” Jake says. He floats off the ground and you follow suit.

“You guys go ahead, let me know if it’s safe,” Jade says. She looks like she’s lost in memories. You leave her be and enter the narrow once-staircase after Jake.

“I’m surprised the waves didn’t wear it down more,” he says. “Or the rain.”

You can tell there once were stairs, but they’re so worn away that you wouldn’t try walking on them. “Things were pretty recognizable underwater near my old apartment. And it’s pretty insulated from the wind here. Lucky, maybe.”

“Yeah.” Jake trails off quietly as you enter what used to be his room. The stone has stayed in place fairly well. The walls are intact. You can tell that there was a table at one point, though it has since cracked and slid to be lying on the ground. Jake reaches out carefully to touch the edge of a long metal pole that you suspect was a past of his bed, once. He takes his hand back after a second. “Corroded,” he confirms aloud, then circles up from the steps to investigate another pile of corroded metal. He snaps a small piece off easily.

“Were those…”

“Guns,” he says, looking down at the slender piece of steel. You slowly float over to one of the windows and look out. You can see the trees and sunlight filtering through them. The stone is cool to the touch under your fingers when you test it.

“This is really unsettling,” Jake says at last.

You turn back to him. “Seeing it so changed?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He looks around the room. “It feels like so little time has passed for me. It’s not yet been two years, but for the planet it’s been thousands. I don’t think I like the feeling. I’m glad I’m not Dave.”

You think of the way Dave talks about his powers, how reluctant he still is at the idea of using them for anything, even without the ability to doom timelines anymore. “He says that time is unforgiving,” you offer.

Jake half sighs, half laughs his next exhale. “He’s not wrong.” He sets the piece of metal he’s still holding back on the ground. “All my posters must’ve degraded.”

You look at the walls reflexively, though you know they’re empty. “I’m sorry.”

Jake just shrugs. “I didn’t expect anything different. Let’s go back outside.”

You exit together and find Jade kneeling next to a small, muddy hole in the ground. “I’m taking pH levels,” she says without looking up as she recaps a bottle. “I want to know if they’re the same or not.”

“They should be, shouldn’t they? The climate’s not changed.” Jake drops from the air to briskly cross to her side. You follow suit, more slowly.

“Should be, yeah,” Jade agrees, frowning in concentration. She takes out a probe and, after fiddling with it and checking something on the sceen, inserts it into the mud. “I’m going to take a few samples, and then maybe we’ll have lunch.”

“Sounds good to me,” you say. Jake asks a few more questions about what she’s expecting from the soil. You mostly watch, curious. Jade switches glasses at one point to a pair that must be a computer, to take notes.

“How many computers do you have on you?” you ask when she doesn’t seem to be concentrating too hard.

“Eight, I think,” she says.

“Always be prepared,” Jake says knowledgeably. You remember that he picked up the habit of carrying a surplus of computers from his grandma. This amuses you for some reason. You really can see the resemblance between them. Her thick hair and cowlicks, her nose, the precise shade of brown of her skin, even her shoulders and hands, they all remind you of Jake. Though you can see Jane, too, in the way she stands, and talks, and laughs. Funny how that works.

“Alright, I’m done,” she says, flopping back from her crouch and stretching. “Picnic time!”

She has a blanket that she spreads out across a stretch of soil and insists that you all take your shoes off before you can sit on it. You’re fine with this, as your feet still feel sort of damp. Then, after you sit around complaining about how bad all your feet smell, you pool your resources. Jake has a kind of hilariously varied assortment of granola bars, sandwiches, and an entire package of tortillas that he is very confused by.

“I have no idea when I picked those up,” he says, staring at them. “I’m surprised they’re not moldy, honestly.”

Jade has a lot of beef jerky. Just... a lot. She insists that most of it is for her. You suppose maybe she craves meat since becoming dogified. She also brought a selection of dried fruit and some cookies that look suspiciously like a batch that Jane made the previous week.

You have also brought sandwiches, as well as some carrots that you’d snagged before you left, and raisins. Jade and Jake immediately dissuade you of your apparent misconception that raisins are an acceptable food.

“They’re boring and gross,” Jade says with finality. You recaptchalogue them in defeat.

“I also have some instant oatmeal and dehydrated things,” Jake says, still with the glassy-eyed look of someone examining their sylladex. “But you have to boil water for those.”

“Too hot for that,” Jade agrees, picking at her tank top to try and unstick it from her body. It has, in fact, gotten warmer as you approach the afternoon. You’re back to feeling sticky rather than rained on.

The last item you all add to the food is all of your water. There’s a lot of water.

Jade wastes no time in starting to rip the beef jerky to pieces with her teeth. You hadn’t noticed previously that her canines were bigger and sharper than you would have expected, but you have certainly have now. You and Jake split your sandwiches evenly. His have chicken in them. Yours are the non-peanuty nut butter you started keeping around after he began sleeping over. It’s definitely shittier than real peanut butter. You each get two sandwiches, with an extra one left over. It sits in the center of the blanket for whoever is intrepid enough to claim it, or something. You eat your lunch.

It’s muggy enough that you all are quiet as you eat. You feel almost sleepy. Jake’s glasses keep trying to slide off his nose. Your hair is sticking to your forehead again. “You don’t mind if I take my shirt off, do you?” Jade asks at last. “It’s just that it’s more sweat than shirt at this point. Jake and I are related, Dirk’s probably never looked at a girl’s chest in his whole life, and I don’t have breasts anyway, is what I’m thinking.”

“I don’t care,” you say. You don’t.

“Feel free,” Jake says.

She takes her shirt off and drops it on the blanket. Her abs are pretty impressive. You eat a cookie. It’s definitely a Jane Crocker creation.

“Did it get hot where you lived?” Jade asks you.

“It was really windy,” you say. “So, yeah, it was hot, but it was also very. There was a lot of spray, from the water, unless I stayed inside or was up on the roof. Sunburn was a problem.”

“I guess that’s the benefit of going god tier,” Jade says. “I was exposed to so much radiation as a kid, there’s no way I wasn’t going to have cancer. But I won’t now.”

“Dreamselves are cooler anyway,” you say. “You get some rad as shit dog ears, I get a much less sunburned complexion and, you know.” An overall ability to reject physical things you couldn’t reconcile as a part of yourself.

“I love my ears,” Jade agrees.

“What should we do next?” Jake asks when neither of you continue that conversation. “It might be too hot to keep hiking, but we can always fly. I wanted to see the volcano before we leave, but go could go for a swim instead if…”

Jade groans and collapses face-first onto the blanket. “Can we take a nap?” she asks. “Let’s take a nap. We can do things again when it’s not the hottest time of day.”

“I’m down for a nap,” you say immediately. “We can do the other stuff later, right?”

“Oh, alright,” Jake says. He sounds more amused than annoyed. He pulls another blanket out of his own sylladex and spreads it out next to Jade’s, and flops down towards the edge. This leaves you in the middle this time. Jade seems to rapidly be falling asleep, and Jake’s quiet. You stash your shades away and stretch out between them. It is very weird to think about falling asleep near Jake with another person present. You try not to start wondering what Jade thinks of the two of you. If she thinks it’s weird that you are spending time again together. Whether or not Jake’s told her that he practically lives with you, half the time.

Jake touches your elbow very lightly. You open your eyes again and tilt your head up from where it was resting on your arms.

Jade’s breathing is heavy. Jake keeps his voice pitched low. “You’ve got your thinking face on. All scrunched up.”

“I have a thinking face?” you ask.

He gestures vaguely towards your face and nods. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just… everything,” you say. At some point. At some point one of you will have to define what’s going on between you, and it shouldn’t be you because fuck knows you’re too mixed up about everything that’s happened to have a good answer.

“Everything?” He smiles, small and quick. “Sounds about normal for you.”

“Guess so,” you say. You want to try to smile back. You don’t. It feels like it’ll make the moment too personal, somehow, even out in the open with Jade asleep on your other side and Jake’s childhood home looming nearby.

“I think you worry too much,” Jake says. His smile is fading.

You actually are feeling tired. You close your eyes for a long second without meaning to and then refocus on him. “You’re one to talk,” you say.

The smile returns, warmer somehow. You don’t want Jake to look at you like you’re something he’s fond of because it still hurts too much. You’re no good at being friends with him and never have. “Go to sleep,” he says. “We can talk more later, if you want.”

“Okay,” you say. You shouldn’t want. You close your eyes, head still turned towards him, and slowly drift off to sleep.

You wake up later to the sound of whispering. Jade and Jake, you identify from a daze. You can’t quite tell what they’re talking about. You force yourself to blink awake (the sun is _bright_ ) and to flip over and sit up.

They look over at you from where they were murmuring together at the corner of the blankets. “Afternoon,” Jake says. “Have a good nap?”

“I feel a little bit dead, so yeah,” you say. All of your limbs are very heavy and your brain is foggy.

“It’s just about three now. We were planning on hiking the rest of the way over to the base of the volcano,” Jake adds. “You up for that?”

“Sure,” you say, rubbing your eyes and willing your brain back to life. “I could dig that.”

“It’s a good thing we took a nap,” Jade tells you. “Otherwise we’d all be dead on our feet by dinner time. That’s timezones for you!”

You put your shades back on. “Sounds about right.” You slide off the blankets so they can be recaptchalogued and stand up. “Which direction is the volcano?”

“Northeast,” Jake says. “Uh… that way.” He points.

“We’re definitely going to go swimming tomorrow, though,” Jade says. She must’ve put her shirt back on while you were asleep.

“Alright,” you say, then, to Jake, “Are you done with your globe? Although I guess you can always come back.”

He nods. “I looked at it more while you both were asleep, so I’m fine for now. Thanks though.”

You shrug.

“Well, let’s go!” Jade says. She bounces up and down a few times, impatient, and you let her lead the way.

The path to the volcano starts out the same as before. More pushing through thick underlayers of ferns and sleek leafy bushes. Occasionally tripping over an unseen rock. You haven’t seen many animals. Birds, yeah. Bugs. But nothing on the ground so far.

You voice this. “There aren’t many animals here, are there?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m too used to the monsters,” Jake admits. “Jade?”

“It’s pretty quiet,” she says. “There might be some nocturnal animals around, sleeping now. It’s hard to tell!”

“What kinds of animals did you have?” you ask.

“Oh, all sorts,” she says. “Lots of geckos! Reptiles in general, actually. Skinks and chameleons and iguanas. For birds we mostly had starlings and white-eyes. I saw a bird of paradise once, though!”

“Mammals?” you ask.

“Me and Bec,” she says. “Though I’m not sure if Bec counts. I loved to swim out to the farthest of the little pieces of land in the water and watch for whales and dolphins, though! We’d get lots of turtles in the bay, too.”

“My grandma collected all the monsters and brought them here,” Jake says. “But I think they ate all the normal animals.”

“Do you like animals, Dirk?” Jade asks, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

“Some,” you say.

“Dirk has a miniature horse,” Jake volunteers.

“Like a pony?”

“No, like she’s only four inches tall. Well, technically she’s also a pony. Just a tiny one,” you say. “I’m not really sure how she’s managed to survive this long, honestly. Pretty sure she came down on the meteor with me.”

Jade gasps in delight. “What’s her name?”

“Minihoof,” you say. “I was a very creative child when it came to naming things.”

She laughs, which is good. She got the sarcasm. “So you still have her? Even after the game?”

You shrug. “I think she’s immortal, or at least impervious to damage. There has to be something. I captchalogued her before the boss fight and then let her go when we got here. Not here, here. The planet, I mean.”

“Oh, no, really? Because I was about to start looking under my feet for the world’s smallest pony.” Jade laughs at her own joke, and you shake your head in mock dismay at your display of verbal inelegance.

“You’ve got to stop owning me like this, Harley, I won’t have any self-esteem left at this rate.”

“Hm, I don’t know if I believe that!” Jade says. “What do you think, Jake?”

“He’s fine,” Jake says.

“Way to take my side, dude.”

He winks at you. Okay.

Then you step into water.

You jump back out, but it’s too late. Your feet are wet again. Now that you’re listening for it you can hear the sound of the water burbling. It was covered up by the jungle sounds and your conversation.

“Huh,” Jake says. “That’s new.” He moves past you and carefully steps out onto some smooth, water-worn pebbles. There’s a small stream here, snaking through the trees. You’re sinking into some mud and try to step back onto solid ground, and accidentally back up into Jade. She grabs your shoulders and redirects you so she can move to be next to Jake.

“Yeah, there wasn’t any water here on my island!” she says.

“That’s geological shifts for you,” you say. You toes squelch in their socks. You’re buying waterproof shoes if Jake ever invites you to go somewhere with him again. They’re both taller than you and are blocking your view entirely. Also some branches are poking you in the side because you’re crowded back against them to keep from standing on anyone’s heels. You try to inch to the left and get past Jake. He hears you moving and turns around.

“Oh, here,” he says, and grabs your arm to help you over onto some rocks next to him. You concentrate your attention on your footing and the gross feeling of wet socks, and not his fingers on your forearm. He continues to steady you even though you’re balanced and would be fine if he let go.

“Wow, this is really pretty!” Jade says brightly. “It’s like a — a brook!”

“A tiny little streamlet,” Jake agrees. “There must be a spring up that-a-ways. What a nice surprise!”

It probably is pretty. A really lovely little slice of wilderness beauty. Maybe you’d be able to pay attention and acknowledge this if Jake would let go.

“So, what, we’ll just have to hop across it?” Jade says. “Are there any stepping stones?”

Jake turns to look downstream, his fingers finally sliding away, down towards your wrist for a second and then just goosebumps rising on your skin despite the fact that it’s still a million degrees. “Just fly, I think,” he says. “Faster that way.” He floats up into the air and lands on the opposite bank. Jade hurries after him, and you follow suit, slowly. Your shoes squelch again when you land and you sigh.

“My toes have drowned,” you announce.

“Oh no, that’s right, you stepped in the water,” Jade says, frowning at your feet. “Do you have other shoes? Or socks?”

“No,” you admit. Probably should have accounted for that when you were loading your sylladex last night. “It’s fine. I can fly if it gets too annoying.”

“If you’re sure,” Jake says. You look at him. He’s frowning in concern.

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “It’s not a big deal. Just a little irritating.”

“Alright,” he accepts. “Well, let’s head on then.”

It turns out that the volcano isn’t too far away, anyway. The trees begin to thin. You emerge onto a few slopes that are more intermittent palm trees and fruit trees you don’t know by name than dense jungle. This makes the hike easier, now that you’re not constantly ducking around branches and trying not to crush more plants than necessary. Jade tips her head back towards the sun, just now starting to slant down in the sky enough to make it clear that the day is passing, and laughs. You reapply sunscreen and absorb the warmth, not quite so intense anymore, and dodge when Jade tries to throw a handful of dirt at you.

Jake has flown up to the top of a tree to look around. He perches on a branch for a moment, wobbling when he tries to wave at you. You wave back. Jade yells, “Get back down here!” and calls him a goof when he smacks into a branch on the way down. The sunlight is getting to you. You feel unreasonably giddy.

“We’re really close!” Jake says as soon as he’s in earshot. “It’s just over this hill and we’re there!”

He spins around without ever touching the ground and jets off towards the top of the hill. You and Jade chase him up and then stop at the top when he waits for you to check up. There’s the volcano. It’s as big as you remember, but less intimidating without lava spewing everywhere.

“We’re here,” he says unnecessarily. Overtaken by the sudden memory of your first and only time seeing this volcano before, the memory of your first human touches and the frantic tempo of your heartbeat in your ears and the nausea you’d felt when you’d dumped seawater on Jake and stood back to let the AR finish the job, you do not respond.

“So we are,” Jade says. She’s gazing up at the volcano, same as Jake. You keep your head tilted in that direction for plausible deniability and fix your gaze on the ground. Guilt restarts in gnawing at your bones. Fantastic timing.

“Well,” Jake says, when nobody moves.

“Now what?” Jade echoes. She looks at you. You shrug.

“...Race you to the top?” Jake suggests. “Flying, I mean?”

“Okay,” you say, to seem like you’re contributing.

“Three two one GO,” Jade says, and takes off. The line up is the same as before, hopefully without ending with you getting dipped in the ocean. You’re closer together this time. The trouble is that you’re all about the same speed. The air roars again in your ears. It almost hurts, the sound and the sharp slap of wind. Jake tries to grab Jade’s foot and misses, and then you’re too busy keeping an eye out for birds to pay attention.

Which is how Jake catches you completely off guard when he slows down enough to grab you out of the air. You yell something indeterminable and hit his shoulder. He laughs. You both lose momentum. He gets the arm he has across your back around your arm, too. Between that and the one across your stomach you’re pretty solidly pinned.

“Gotcha!” he says.

“Fuck that,” you say, and drive your elbow into his ribs with the little wiggle room you have. His grip loosens enough for you to twist. Nearest arm free. You brace it on his shoulder and bring your knees up to try and shove off of his hip. Jake grabs your farthest knee. Shit. You probably look like you’re dancing the world’s most bizarre ballroom dance, and you have zero leverage.

“It still really does crack me up, how awful you are at hand-to-hand,” he says, right in your ear. You’ve drifted to almost a complete stop, having spiralled down far enough to see the details of the largest rocks dotting the slope.

“Everyone has a weakness,” you say, voice even. Jake could let you go. He pretty blatantly won that ambush of his.

“True enough,” he says. “Though I think most everyone has more than one.”

“Probably.” You could try to flip backwards, over his arm. He’ll feel you tensing in anticipation though, this close.

“Do I win, then?” he asks.

You slide your arm farther up, along his neck, to brace yourself better. “Not likely,” you say, and roll yourself heels over head. He catches your foot but you twist back behind him and he has to drop you. You spiral back upright as he whirls around to follow. You hover a few feet apart, eyeing each other. If you know him, he won’t wait long. He’s going to try and — you throw yourself to the left when he lunges forward. He flings out an arm and swipes at your shirt, nearly getting a handful. You both spin around again.

“Are you just letting Jade get to the top?” you ask, a little out of breath.

“We’re putting on some live entertainment for her, as a winning prize,” he suggests, and feints towards you. You dodge, and he grabs one of your arms again. Hauls you forward and takes a kick (not hard, you don’t want to actually hurt him) and throws you over his shoulder. Arm across your upper back.

“Do I win yet?” he tries. You’re unwilling to move too much. Your shades are askew. You’re glad they stayed on at all.

After a pause, you reach up and fix them, then rest your arms on his back like you meant to be there. “I don’t know, this doesn’t really feel like losing. More like I got ambushed and there’s going to be some sort of consolation prize — someone’ll show up and smack you with a fine for, for unmerited attacks, and I’ll try to look appropriately sad but someone from the press will catch me saying that I’m happier now, sounds about right, yeah?”

“You’re such a dork,” he says. His voice is doing that awful warm and fond thing. His grip loosens and now it’s more like he’s carrying you, or like he picked you up to prove he could and then left you there. That’s reasonably friendly. The two of you have shared a lot of of body contact in the past two or so months, both incidental and intentional. One of his hands curls and then presses flat again. Smooths out your shirt. His other has a few fingers lingering on your neck, three warm fingertips putting pressure on your skin.

“Am I?” you say. Less steady.

“I think so,” Jake says. His hands slide apart some more, giving you more room. You’ll have to unhook your arms from his shoulders for him to really let you go. You can feel his body heat, smell his skin. You really hope he can’t feel your heartbeat when you drop your grip on him. He lets you slip back, losing the moment of contact. His hands linger for a long, painful second. He’s looking at you, intent, something. You’re not sure what he’s trying to find. It’s very difficult to meet his eyes. The pull to touch him again is strong, to find a reason, any reason. Snatch his glasses or pretend to mess with his hair. Your skin feels too hot, even for the sun and the heat around you.

“We should catch up,” you say. Your voice sounds strange, like it’s someone else speaking.

“Sure,” Jake agrees. It takes great effort not to look at his mouth. This close, he might actually be able to see where your eyes are. “We oughtn’t leave Jade waiting.”

“Oughtn’t,” you mutter, a shadow of your normal sarcasm levels, and slink backwards. Jake doesn’t reply, doesn’t move, still looking at you. Your neck burns where he touched you. “Let’s go, then.”

And the moment, the tense air between you, snaps as he turns up towards the peak again. You both fly up to meet Jade in silence. She’s waiting on a rock near the top. Her smile seems to you very smug.

“Enjoying your win?” you ask.

“The view up here is really great,” she says, and wiggles her eyebrows, unsubtly. “You can see the whole island, look. There’s the frog temple.”

There, indeed, is the temple. It’s smallish from up here. You can estimate what path you took today, as you look over the jungle. The wind is still whipping at you.

“What’s the inside like?” Jake asks, facing the other direction. He starts towards the rim.

Jade turns to follow him, so you have to, as well. “Did you ever see Dave’s planet, Dirk?”

“In passing,” you say.

“It was covered in lava,” she says. “Kind of freaky, really.”

“Sounds… hot.” You remember that even from a distance you could feel the heat of the explosion. The game probably saved you all from that. You wonder how much of the island the lava covered after you were gone from the planet.

“It was,” Jade says, coming to a halt at the top. “I don’t know how he stood it.”

You look down into the crater. It goes down, very steeply for a ways, and then tilts less and less until it hits a water line. There’s a small lake in the mountain.

“Ha! I suppose that makes sense,” Jake says, staring down. “It must have been a long time ago that there last was an eruption, don’t you think?”

“Seems so,” Jade says. “Do you dare me to go touch the water?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

Jade flies down towards the lake. You feel like you have the beginnings of a headache, and sit down on a rock to drink some water. Jake sits, too, but in the dirt nearby.

“What time is it at home?” you ask, pressing the water bottle to your forehead.

“Bit past nine at night,” he responds. “Tired?”

“A little,” you admit.

“It’s been a long day, even with a nap in the middle,” he says. “I’m pretty wiped, too.”

You recaptchalogue your water. There’s a shriek and splashing from Jade, distantly. You draw lines in the dirt with your toe. Your shoes seem drier, now, but your socks are still pretty soggy and gross. You’d take them off but then you’d get dirt on your feet, which is worse, somehow. “It’s been fun, though.”

“You think so?” You can hear how pleased Jake is by this. You don’t have to look at him to know.

“Sure,” you say. “You are… you and Jade are fun to hang out with.”

“It’s good to have her around.”

Jade takes this moment to reappear. “The water’s warmish,” she reports. “From the sun, I think, because it’s not that warm. Probably colder further down.”

“Seems reasonable to me!” Jake says.

Jade nods, sighs, and flops down on the ground next to him. “You guys look like you’re not planning on moving any time soon,” she observes.

“Well, I’ll move from up here, but I’m thinking it might be time to call today’s journey to a close,” Jake says.

“You didn’t sleep earlier, either,” Jade says knowingly. “It’s, what… past nine at night at home. We could head back to consort kingdom. I asked them if we could stay the night there, remember, so we could see their cities tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Jake says.

There’s a short stretch of silence as he doesn’t elaborate.

“You want to stay here tonight, don’t you?” Jade guesses.

“I thought it sounded nice,” Jake admits. “For old time’s sake, you know?”

“Hmmm…” Jade extends her feet out in front of her and stretches, toes pointed, then rolls her shoulders back. “That’s fine, obviously! I’m probably still going to stay in consort kingdom tonight. I want to talk to them about some things, like I have some questions about how they record information and keep history? Supposedly they have some really cool methods! I can meet back up with you tomorrow, if that’s fine?”

“Sure,” Jake says. “That should be manageable.”

They both look at you.

“Um,” you say, failing to know how to deal with this spur-of-the-moment decision making.

“Like I said, I’m fine on my own,” Jade says.

“Yeah, stay with me,” Jake says. “We can have a campfire or something. It’ll be fun!”

“Okay,” you say, before you can think better of it. “Will you take notes or something?” you ask Jade. “I happen to think history is really interesting.”

“Yeah, sure, we can debrief tomorrow!” she says. “I guess I’ll head out, then.”

She gets to her feet, and so does Jake, to hug her goodbye. Then she reaches down and hauls you up to hug you, too. She squeezes much harder than you’d expected, but it’s nice. You get a faceful of her hair and squeeze her back.

She draws back after a second and pats your shoulder. “I’ll see you both tomorrow! Try not to be too bored without me.”

“We won’t be,” Jake says.

“Bye, Jade,” you say, because Jade is cool.

She pops up into the air and flies backwards, towards the jungle, waving. When she’s starting to look small and indistinct she flips around and heads swiftly towards the temple.

“Well,” Jake says. “Head down, then?”

You both fly, more slowly, towards the treeline, quiet. It’s not an uneasy quiet, though it’s not exactly peaceful either. The temperature has dropped some. Not that it’s cold — by far not. But it’s not sauna temperature out, either. More on the side of pleasant. You think you might be adjusting to the humidity a little bit, too.

You land on the dirt next to Jake, right at the edge of where the trees are beginning to start but aren’t dense yet, and at the base of the volcano, where the ground is fairly flat again.

“Should we get firewood?” you say, when it becomes clear that you’re both sort of standing around waiting for the other to say something.

“Oh, uh, about that,” Jake says. “I might have—” He decaptchalogues a pile of firewood.

You stare at it for a second. “Plan this in advance, did you?”

“I didn’t want to mess with the vegetation here unless we had to,” Jake says, looking embarrassed. “So—” He gestures vaguely.

You shrug. “Saves me some trouble, I guess.”

“Do you remember how to start a fire?” he asks. He’d taught you, during the game.

“I think so,” you say. He finds this answer acceptable. You both pick out some smaller pieces and Jake tries to shave them down to fragments while you pick up some rocks for a fire ring. It’s sort of fun, in a way the game never was, not with the threat of imminent possible death hanging over everyone’s heads at all times. After the rocks are set up you both start trying to make a tiny cone over the chunk of tinder Jake brought. You keep bumping fingers, which makes Jake laugh.

“Do we have matches, or,” you start.

Jake, of course, has matches. He’s more prepared than you are, though maybe you could have anticipated this. His packing instructions had included, “And if you forget something I’m sure one of us will have it, since we’re more used to the idea of a jungle than you are,” after all.

You continue to put together a few larger pieces of kindling, and then pick up two of the smaller logs.

“Wait, hold your horses,” Jake says, fumbling with the matches.

“Isn’t this going to be way too hot?” you ask. “Not saying we shouldn’t light a fire, just that it’s not in any way resembling cold temperatures out here.”

“It’ll be a lot cooler when the sun goes down,” Jake says absently. “It’ll — we’ll be comfortable with it.” He strikes a match and ignites the tinder, crouched down almost with his chest on his knees to watch it. He blows on it, gently, trying to get the kindling to light. He breathes, the sparks glow brighter — you think it won’t work but then a splinter off the rough edge of a piece of kindling curls and blackens, flickering gold at the edges. And the fire catches.

Jake continues to blow for a few minutes to keep it from going out again, until you can hear the crackling and popping of the fire starting. You set the logs against each other, carefully propped up over the existing fire, while Jake draws back.

“It worked!” he says, with a pleased look on his face.

“Did you think it wouldn’t?” you ask, settling back onto your heels.

“I’m a bit out of practice,” he admits.

“Clearly not too out of practice,” you say, watching as one of the logs starts to blacken promisingly.

He just shrugs, still looking pleased. “Look, I brought us some bigger logs to sit on, too.” You watch as he stands to pick up and haul over, one by one, two logs large and even enough to count as seats. He sets them down next to each other on his side of the fire and looks at you expectantly.

“I still think it’s a little warm for a fire,” you say, getting to your feet and taking the extra seat.

“It’s nearly five, isn’t it?” Jake glances up at the sky. “So the sun will be down in an hour and a half or so. You’ll see.”

You’re far enough back from the fire anyway that you could sit between your seat and the ring of rocks without bumping into either too readily, so you’re out of things to complain about. “Do you have your camp stove?” you ask instead. “We could make dinner.”

“Good idea!” Jake says. “If you want to keep an eye on the fire, I can wrestle that contraption into shape.”

“Alright,” you say. You pick up a stick to poke at the fire and watch covertly as Jake shifts over to the ground a little bit away to fiddle with his stove, camping pots, and a gallon container of water for cooking. It’s evident that he’d been planning or hoping to camp here all along, and just neglected to tell anyone about this. It’s kind of hilarious. How many sleeping bags did he bring? He has at least one more tarp than the one you already saw, probably two. That explains why he brought freeze-dried food, anyway.

You poke the fire again to maintain your cover of concentration. It doesn’t really need poking. You add a third log for stability, then take your shoes and socks off to let them finish drying. Jake pours water into a pot carefully.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks.

“What do you have?”

“Um…” Jake’s expression goes blank as he examines his sylladex. “There’s… stew, spaghetti, beef stroganoff… some lasagna that honestly doesn’t sound very appetizing to me… oatmeal! A lot of oatmeal. And something entitled ‘breakfast hash.’”

“Oatmeal for breakfast, right?” you say. “As fantastic as rehydrated pasta sounds, I’m thinking that stew might be the safest option here.”

“Haha, yeah,” Jake says. “You might be right, there.” He snaps it out of his sylladex and sets it down on his abandoned seat, then clunks the pot down on the stove to boil. “Booyeah! Dinner in no time.”

“How long is no time?” you ask.

“...Twenty minutes, ish?” Jake hazards. He reclaims his seat and relocated your meal to the ground. “Got to let the stew… stew? Ha.”

“Yep,” you say, and poke the fire again for something to do with your hands. Your feeling of intense awkwardness is beginning to settle back over you, like the world’s worst dinner companion.

Jake feels differently, apparently, launching into conversation. “Do you remember when I first tried to teach you how to start a fire? And you complained the whole time and nearly lit your sleeve aflame?”

“Yes, and I wish I didn’t,” you say.

“It was funny, though!” Jake says. “Well, it was annoying, and then it was funny because it was like retribution for you being a poor sport.”

“Flattering,” you say.

“Oh, hush,” he says. “That was… what, how long ago? A year and a half, or so.”

“Just about,” you agree. Tilt your head up, tracking the sun’s progress in the sky. Definitely lower than before. Getting close to the topmost part of the jungle that you can see from the ground, actually.

“Anyhow, my point was,” Jake presses on, “that we sure have come a long way, haven’t we?”

You drop your gaze back to the fire. “Yeah. I guess we have.” Half the time you still feel like your uncertain, scared thirteen year old self, trapped in a limbo made of the sea and begging scraps of attention off of anyone who came your way, but there’s merit to Jake’s words.

“I mean,” Jake says, now sounding more hesitant, “I never thought I could bring you here, for one. And here we are.”

“We did go through a lot of shit to get some relative safety in our lives,” you say, not quite sure what the right answer is. “I am glad to be here with you. You know I always wished I could be.” That’s… about as close as you’ve gotten to acknowledging your years of poorly-hidden feelings for him in a long time.

“I know,” Jake agrees. “That’s part of why I’m happy you finally can be.” He reaches out unexpectedly and tugs the stick away from you. “You’ll knock the fire apart if you keep that up.”

“You didn’t have to steal it,” you grumble with no heat whatsoever. You fold your hands across your knees instead. “Is it weird, being back here?”

“A little,” Jake says. “Weirder because it’s changed. Déjà vu, you know. Except everything’s a little not right. I never thought I’d ever be back here.” He taps the stick against the rocks absentmindedly. “Is it weird to be by the ocean again?”

You can’t hear the waves from here, but the sound of it fills your mind nonetheless. “A little, yeah.”

“But it would be different for you, anyway,” Jake says, finishing your thoughts for you. “Since you wanted to escape so badly.”

“Cabin fever,” you say. “But, yeah. As much as I appreciated having all my stuff and everything that — that my bro left for me, you know. It got old pretty quick. But you know that already.”

“If you could visit,” Jake asks, “would you?”

You consider the fire. “No. You guys have already seen all of it that matters. I can go stand in the middle of the ocean anytime I want. If I could go back to LOTAK — maybe. There’s some things I wish I still had. But not back to the start.”

Jake nods. You see it, peripherally. He leans over to check the water. It’s getting closer to boiling. “Your place, here on Earth C I mean, it’s really empty.” A statement, inflected like a question.

“It’s a loan,” you say, relieved. This is an easy topic. You know the answer. “When we first got here, remember how we all got really confused on living spaces? And then all the nearby residents offered us places to live. I wanted to stay close to Jane and Roxy and Calliope, and there were some humans who said that they kept a house that was only a few blocks away. Since I'm freeloading off of our inglorious titles as the creators, I haven’t tried to do anything to it. It’s not really mine.”

“Sure, but you haven’t put up any pictures, or put any of your things out, or anything,” Jake says.

That’s a little trickier. “It just… doesn’t really feel like mine,” you say. You want the stick back for something to do with your hands. “Nobody really comes over because it’s so small. Except you. I usually go visiting rather than throwing parties or something.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Jake says. “It’s not like I really bothered with moving into the little place I’m borrowing, either.”

“You live… where again?” He’s gone still, hand clasped only loosely around the stick, and you tug it back before he can react.

He makes a face at you. “On the edge of town, closer in by the forest. East of you. Though lately I’ve hardly been there.”

“Isn’t that where you sleep, when you’re not—”

“—With you? For the most part.” The water is boiling. Jake dumps the dehydrated stew into a bowl. “You don’t mind if we share, right?”

“That’s fine,” you say, though he’s already pouring in the water, slow and careful, steady hands.

“...But yes,” he says, finishing the thought. “Sometimes I sleep in the woods, though. Nobody goes in there at night, if I really want to be alone. And there’s the, hm.” He sets the pot back down and covers the bowl. “The openness. I like that.”

“Of the woods?” you say.

“Yeah. No walls. I dunno.” He laces his fingers behind his back to stretch, his shirt riding up in the front and across his chest as his shoulders roll back. “It bothers me, sometimes.”

“Being trapped?” you guess.

“I always make you sleep with the window open,” he says, not quite answering. “Did you notice? I didn’t do that before.”

You consider this. You’d noticed, but hadn’t thought anything of it.

“I think it’s, um.” He breaks off to laugh awkwardly. “The Jane thing. If I can, can feel the air moving or smell the outside, then I’m alright.”

You spin the stick between your fingers. Can’t think of a good response.

“Don’t worry yourself over it,” he says, clearly not wanting to keep talking about it. “I’m handling it.”

“Okay,” you allow. “Let me know if you do need help with something.”

“Sure, Dirk,” he says, easy.

You settle into a comfortable silence for a moment. He’s right that it is cooling off, though you would still call this warm weather. You repress the urge to keep talking, when it arises. This is a nice moment. No need to spoil it.

The quiet drags on, and you let it be, still twisting the stick between your hands absent-mindedly. Jake gets up and brings a couple of armfuls of logs closer to the fire and recaptchalogues the rest. You alternate between watching the fire absent-mindedly, and watching Jake move around with somewhat more attention. It’s not long before the food’s ready, and Jake balances it on his knees carefully, turned towards you on his seat, and offers you the first choice of spoons with a wrinkle of a smile on his forehead.

“Good choice,” he says when you pick one out of his hand.

“Who’s a dork, again?” you ask, and the two of you eat your dinner, shared out of the same bowl the way you always did on Jake’s planet, out of laziness and lack of proximity to running water. Your spoons clatter together, just as you remember. Transposed here, into such a different world with time passed, the memory doesn’t hurt. It just is. Does it count as a memory still if you can call it an ongoing event, now? Jake whacks your spoon intentionally a few times. You can tell because of the way he angles his head to hide the shadow of a smile. You resist the impulse to have a spoon fight.

The food isn’t the best in the world, but it’s perfectly tolerable, bland and filling. When you’re done Jake takes the bowl and your spoons and fills it with the leftover water from the pot. He swishes it around a few times, then, looking guilty, dumps out the water a ways away.

“You’re not technically supposed to do that,” he says, wiping out the bowl and avoiding your gaze like he thinks you’re judging him. “But, well, technically it’s my island, isn’t it? It’ll be fine. Probably.”

He captchalogues all his cookware, including his old beat up stove, and reclaims his seat. You add another log to the fire. You’re starting to build up some coals, now. The sun is hanging pretty low in the sky.

“I should’ve brought marshmallows,” Jake says. “Can’t believe that slipped my mind.”

“I’m sure we can live without,” you say.

“I’m sure we _can’t_ , what kind of camping trip is this, with no marshmallows?” Mock-indignant. More teasing.

“Glad to know where your priorities lie,” you say. You decide it’s late enough in the day and remove your shades. You blink through the shift in lighting. Jake’s eyes are much greener both without them and as set against a backdrop of the jungle.

Just like that, the tension is back. You drink some of your water and then fix your gaze on the flames to hide your feeling of turmoil. Jake reaches over again and pulls the stick from you. He jabs at the coals more effectively than you’ve done yet. When he passes the stick back, he gets within a breath of touching your hand. You fail to resist looking at him and meet his gaze. You don’t know what it is, maybe the change in setting to something so familiar, but his eyes are as steady as his hands. As steady as a tree, withstanding years of rain and wind and salt-heavy soil. You.

You look away again. Down this time, towards your feet. “So,” you start, but you can’t think of anything to say. “So, um.”

“So,” Jake echoes. You sneak another glance of him. He’s shifted back to uncertainty suddenly, now staring down at his hands.

“That’s… a thing we’re saying,” you say.

“Yeah,” Jake says. “Yeah, it’s—” He reaches for you. You go with him without thinking, pulled into his space, stick falling from your hands, and your brain catches up just in time to make you gasp when Jake kisses you.

He pulls back for a breath and then kisses you again, one hand on the back of your neck, the other light on your arm, lips warm and strange, moving against yours, a breath, another kiss, sweeter than anything else you’ve ever found in the world. Your hand lands on his knee, balance. His glasses bump your nose and you shift, tilt your head. This brings you the tiniest amount closer. He catches your bottom lip between his and tugs, gentle, and your mouth opens wordlessly, a tiny soundless sigh. His hand slips up your neck to your hair and he rubs your scalp with his fingertips.

All the desire in you, all the things about him that have always drawn you helplessly closer into his orbit, everything you’ve been doing your very best to ignore, flares to life in you like the fire the two of you lit just a little while ago. Your fingers tighten on his knee for a second before you can relax them, heat running down your spine. You lick haphazardly at his mouth and withdraw with another gasp before you get carried away, before he can react.

“Jake,” you say, “Jake, I’ll — I’ll fuck this up again.”

“No, you won’t,” Jake murmurs, still holding you so you can’t draw back too far, nosing along your jawline. You swallow a groan when his mouth opens against you, shifting against the seat he had hewn.

“Jake,” you say again, pleading, but breathless.

“Let me,” he says, and kisses you again. Hand tightening in your hair, mouth tracing yours. You open up for him. It’s impossible not to. If this is what Jake wants, if he wants this from you, then, then surely it’s okay if you let him have it. You want to be closer. He moves the hand he has on your arm to your back and applies pressure, steadily, until you get the hint and drop forward to kneel in front of him. There, closer. You’d be at the right height to hear his heartbeat if you sat back on your heels. As it is, you stay pressed up against him,  letting him lick slowly into your mouth, shuddering occasionally at the blips of arousal that want to circle through you.

You need to breathe, so you pull away and press your face against his neck instead, one breath, two, then taste his skin. He groans, tilts his head back for you. His voice is an electrical current laid bare against you. Your legs squeeze together involuntarily as you suck at his skin. You hope he’s as affected by you as you are by him, or else this is going to get embarrassing. He’s picking at your shirt distractedly, toying with the hem.

Memory tells you what Jake likes, so you scrape your teeth across the very back of his jaw, by his ear.

“ _Dirk_ , shit,” Jake says, and pushes his hand up under your shirt. His voice is ragged. You break away and he drags you back to kiss you again, one hand splayed flat against your ribs and the other still caught in your hair. Each kiss grows wetter, messy almost, until your whole body feels like electricity and he’s controlling when the currents run, until you want to squirm with the heat of it.

You whimper unintentionally when he pulls back, to look at you maybe. You don’t know what you must look like, but Jake’s pupils are blown wide and there’s a flush along his cheeks and ears.

“What?” you ask when the silence persists, nerves rising up to choke you.

“...Nothing,” Jake answers, and keeps his fingers hooked into your hair to draw you back in. It’s more slow this time, each kiss thorough and thick with intent. You feel like Jake’s trying to tell you something, some secret code hidden between soft breaths and the leisurely way he licks back into your mouth. You don’t know what he’s trying to say, though. Neither do you know what he wants, _why_ he wants. You can’t think of a good way to phrase the question so you can ask. If he wants — he could be seeking some sort of closure, or, or proving a point to himself, he might be —

Jake draws away and says, “Dirk, breathe,” concern written into his face.

You hide your face in his shoulder, humiliated once again by your brain’s refusal to chill out for one single second.

“Hey, hey,” Jake says, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s alright, Dirk, stay with me, okay?”

“I’m with you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Good, that’s good,” he says, still rubbing your back. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” you say, which is at least honest, if not a good answer. “I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats. “I’m going to touch you now, then.”

 _You are touching me_ , you think, slow to catch his meaning until he moves a hand to the button on your shorts. He fumbles with it for a second before popping it, and tugging your zipper open. You turn your face to his neck blindly at the first touch of his fingers — outside of your boxers, probably because his hands aren’t clean. It’s very — considerate — you shiver and spread your legs wider involuntarily.

Jake’s investigating how wet you are, seeing where he can feel the slickness through the cloth. After a moment of sliding around he presses a finger up against your hole, invoking the sense memory of actually having his fingers inside you. You bite your lip to keep from making noise.

His movements stay small and light, one knuckle against your clit for a moment before moving away again, then back, then he drags his fingertips along the length of your labia.

“Don’t — don’t tease,” you manage. He presses a finger against your clit again and you have to cut off the last word before it shifts into a moan.

“Well, it’s hard to be certain I’m doing this right without any encouragement,” Jake says, tracing one finger over you very lightly, like he wants to drag this out as long as possible. You try to grind down on his hand and he pulls it back to keep being awful.

“Come on,” you say, almost whining. This is, at least, very distracting. You can’t quite hold on to the fear that swamped you a moment ago.

“Hmm,” Jake hums in your ear, and does absolutely nothing helpful, just shifts to rub tiny circles just above your clit.

“Fuck — fuck you,” you say, and then let yourself groan when he moves his fingers lower again.

“There you are,” he says, as if that has any meaning, and finally does something you can really feel. You have to fight not to stifle yourself, and keep your face hidden against him when he presses two fingers against you in small circles. This is definitely not the most creative or interesting sex two people could ever have but you are definitely, fuck, Jake is definitely going to get you off if he keeps this up. You try to fumble for his pants, managing to press your hand against his dick — he’s really hard, _nice_ — and start tugging one handed at the button before Jake drops the arm he was using to help keep you upright to swat you away.

“You first, I can wait,” he says, though if he’s as turned on as it felt like he’s probably dying for some relief. You acquiesce, too foggy with the building tension and heat to disagree. It usually takes more effort to get you off, but given your pathetic continued longing for Jake it’s not too shocking that you’d —

Jake curls his fingers up towards his palm, disrupting the rhythm, earning himself another gasp and your hand twisted tightly into the back of his shirt. You drop your forehead to his shoulder and struggle to keep your breathing steady.

— Not too shocking that you’re falling apart over two fingers and sheer overwhelming proximity.

You can already feel fuzzy heat wanting to spread across you. You try to chase the feeling, concentrate on it, but it remains tantalizingly out of reach. Maybe it’s your earlier tension, or the discomfort of all the dirt and a small twig digging into your knees, but you can’t — you can’t quite —

You make some sort of noise, frustration maybe, and Jake says, “Something the matter?”

You try to say his name, but he curls his fingers again and you end up half moaning it — _Ja–aaa–ke._ Sort of embarrassing, but his other arm tightens across your back in a way that probably means he thinks it's hot.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” he murmurs. Back to the same small, thought-melting circles over your clit. “Shh, it’s alright. Let me feel you.”

You decide with your last shred of coherency never to tell him that it was his voice that got you off and over the edge more than anything else he was doing, and then surrender to the warmth that wants to flood you. Like static through your head, blotting out any thoughts, sweat prickling at your hairline, and all of your limbs trembling. Your mouth, open against his neck again, and your hips, grinding down on his fingers without your permission. Shaky, stuttering breaths against his skin. And the pleasure that lingers through you like it was poured into your body, filling you up to the brim.

“Okay, okay,” you say when it starts to be a little too much, and Jake takes his hand away. You sit back abruptly, legs too unsteady to keep you up. Jake lets you go.

“How was that?” Jake asks, like he couldn’t tell that it was good.

“Ask later when I can think,” you say, and this should be okay. You could just lean closer some, and, yeah, that’ll work. You reach for his fly again, with both hands this time. “Your turn.”

Jake’s laugh at your expense turns into a groan when you palm him through his underwear. You feel him up for a moment, gauging the angle. “Help a guy out and push your pants down, will you?”

“Wh—why?” Jake asks, already breathing heavily, teeth digging into his lip.

“So I don’t have to rub my face all over your zipper?” You tug the waist of his underwear towards yourself pointedly. “And so I can get to your dick at all.”

“Oh,” Jake says, and with a bit of wriggling and your hands to help you divest him of clothing enough that the tops of his thighs are exposed to the air. Dusk is starting to gather in the air, startling to you. You lost some time with your eyes shut, apparently.

“That’s better,” you say, and you feel steadier, too, less orgasm-shaken. You scoot forward and, with one arm on Jake’s knee for balance, take Jake into hand. He spreads his legs as wide as they can go, still caught in his shorts, and you lean forward to lick a stripe up his dick.

“Shit, that’s,” Jake says, catching a hand in your hair unexpectedly. “Fucking—”

It’s dizzying, touching him again. You could stay here in this moment forever. You could lap at his cock for eternity so long as you could stay with him. You.

“I’m not going to last long,” Jake apologizes, breathlessly. You aren’t particularly invested in drawing this out, anyway, and slide your mouth over the head of his dick, eyes falling shut. Tongue over the teeth. Mindful of your gag reflex. You slurp experimentally at his dick and Jake’s fingers tighten in your hair. It’s a relief, to not be pretending he doesn’t still affect you so strongly.

You keep your hand on the base of his dick and try to coordinate, twisting your wrist in time with your mouth bobbing up and down on him. Fuck, you’re out of practice. Jake doesn’t seem to care too much. He’s clearly trying to refrain from bucking up into you, which you appreciate. You suck on the head again for a moment, drag your tongue across his slit, and then slide back down. You hope this isn’t the only time you get to do this again. Or rather, you wish futilely for a future where you don’t ruin something so important.

“Oh, oh fuck,” Jake says. “Dirk, fair warning here—”

 _Incoming_ , you think, because spending time around Jake again has infected your word choice, and do your best to suck harder, make it feel as good as you can. Jake falls silent as he comes, still running his fingers through your hair. You let his dick slip from your mouth, swallow, and pull back. Wipe your mouth. What a pair you make. You’re still dressed, just your fly undone with your pants hanging low and twisted on your hips. Jake got his pants partway off at least, but neither of you even lost a shirt.

You feel suddenly cold, lost, watching Jake catch his breath. Sounds trickle back in as your attention widens. First the fire, heat beginning to be welcome as the temperature does lower, as promised. The buzzing of insects, getting louder every minute. You. You love him. It hurts.

Jake leans forward, uncurling, and presses a single gentle kiss to your forehead. You feel like the breath has been punched out of you. You ache at the affection in that small gesture.

“We should get the tent set up,” Jake says. “I’m worried it’ll rain again.”

“Okay,” you say, voice smaller than you’d like.

“Come on, you can help,” Jake says. He stands and pulls his pants back up. You lean back again the log you’d been sitting on earlier and rebutton yourself as well. Take Jake’s hand when he offers it to help you up. He lets go as soon as you’re standing.

It’s while Jake’s fussing with the knots he’s tied to the pair of trees from which your main tarp will be suspended (and while you’re setting up the extra tarp and stakes) that the first raindrops fall from the sky, like Jake summoned them accidentally. You both hurry to finish, draping the first tarp over the rope and affixing it to the one on the ground with the stakes. By the time the rain really begins again you’re both safely ensconced under a roof.

“Adi-friggin’-eu to the fire,” Jake says, staring out at the rain.

You’re staring down at your dirt-smeared, very _bare_ feet like they’ve personally betrayed you. “God fucking damn it.”

Jake looks over in mild alarm.

“I left my shoes by the fire,” you say. “Rest in fucking pieces.” You’d been so honestly distracted by having had sex with Jake that you’d forgotten to put them back on while Jake picked out where to tie the rope.

“Maybe they’ll dry again overnight?” Jake suggests. The rain pours down. It’s so heavy that you can’t actually see see too far through it.

“Maybe,” you say, though you really truly doubt it. “I’ll grab them once this stops.”

Jake picks up the edge of the tarp and tilts it to encourage the water not to pool inside your tent.

“What are the chances of us staying completely dry tonight?” you ask.

“I brought sleeping bags, we’re not just going to be lying on the tarp,” Jake says. “Actually, if you’re down to cozy up, I brought our dual sleeping bag.”

“Always be prepared,” you say, on reflex. Evidently Jake considered the chance of getting you alone tonight.

Jake flashes you a single finger gun and tucks his knees up to rest his chin on them. “This rain had better stop soon,” he says. “I want to go to bed.”

“Yeah,” you echo, and the two of you fall to silence for a while, waiting for the rain to die down. Jake looks peaceful, so you don’t break the silence. You sort of want to touch him again, maybe lean against his side, but you’re not sure if that’s allowed. The rules of this whole situation have well and truly been fucked. Ha. They’ve been broken, anyway.

Eventually the rain does ease up, and you brave getting your feet muddy to bring your shoes back. The fire seems pretty damn extinguished to you, too, so that’s one less thing to worry about. When you return, Jake has spread out the sleeping bag and is sitting with his legs already tucked inside. He also smiles at you.

You dump your sodden shoes along the tarp wall and then sit down on top of the bag. “Look at my feet. They’re disgusting,” you say, wiggling your toes.

“They’re pretty muddy,” Jake agrees. You shuck off your shorts and use them to try and clean off. You have more shorts, but only one pair of feet. When they’re adequately clean, or at least won’t actively smear mud on Jake, you crawl in beside him and curl up.

“I’m not super tired yet,” you warn as Jake plops down, wiggling to get comfortable.

He tucks a foot between your shins. “You’re the insomniac. I’m sure you can entertain yourself.”

“Fair enough,” you say. You’re content to lie there, facing towards him and watching his eyes blink shut slowly. The trees drip down on the tarp overhead. You’re warm, but not too hot. The heat and weight of Jake’s body next to yours is familiar enough to be relaxing, even on the hard ground rather than in your bed.

Jake reaches to take your hand in one of his. Your fingers wind together.

You hesitate for a long second, then cover both your hands with your free one, bringing them up and your head down to drop a kiss on his knuckles. Jake sighs, contented, and you continue to hold his hand while you watch him fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! [i wrote some expansion for this chapter on my blog.](http://oceanboydirk.tumblr.com/post/159741960816/) mostly it explains my reasoning on dirk being trans, and why i didn't tag for it earlier. then there's some pictures of what jake's island might look like! not required reading, of course, but i collected all this information on jake and jade's island that i thought was interesting, and i figured some people might want an explanation on the trans characters. in short, transness will not be an important part of this story. in fact it is really only a background detail. 
> 
> i want to shout out to my good pal, mika @hal-strider, without whom this chapter would not have been possible. thanks for always being willing to listen to me ramble and get spoilered for the chapter. also, shout out to the whole dirkjake discord, for letting me ramble about research, and encouraging me to write trans dirk. 
> 
> psa: you should probably communicate to your ex that you want to get back together BEFORE you fuck him. just saying.


	4. all those bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suddenly sickfic

You sleep restlessly. Towards the morning you go in and out of sleep, sometimes half listening to the insects and half dozing, sometimes just listening to Jake’s breathing. Something hurts, and you feel very heavy.

You lose track of the waking world again, towards when the sky starts to grow light. Wake with Jake’s hand pressed to your forehead.

“Do you feel alright?” he asks.

You try to sit up. The world spins unpleasantly for a moment and your head throbs menacingly.

“No,” you say, curling back up reflexively.

“You’re awfully warm,” Jake murmurs, checking your forehead again. His hands feel cool to you, so maybe he’s right. You don’t feel warm, though. Moving let fresh air sneak into your sleeping bag, and you’re shivering.

“I’m cold,” you say. The light is hurting your eyes, so you turn your head away from it.

Jake stops feeling up your face. “You have a fever,” he says.

“Awesome,” you say into the sleeping bag. Yeah, that would explain the chills that are shaking you.

“Okay,” Jake says. “Hm. I’m going to take the tent down. You stay there, okay?”

You are not going anywhere. You shake worse when Jake crawls free and pull his half of the sleeping bag around yourself. Then you pull it over your head as well, because Jake’s taking the tarp down and it’s wafting the air around.

You almost doze back off, honestly, but Jake shakes you back awake after only a few minutes.

“Come on, I need to get the tarp,” he says, crouched next to you. The sunlight hurts your eyes and you have to squint to see him.

“No,” you suggest.

“You can’t stay here forever,” he says. “Besides, it’ll be hard to get you home if you don’t get up.”

“Watch me,” you say, shutting your eyes again.

“I’ve got a blanket for you,” he says, presumably trying for tantalizingly. “You don’t have to do anything but stay huddled in it.”

It’s the thought of being in your own bed more than anything else that gets you to float free of the sleeping bag and accept Jake’s blanket as a substitute. He captchalogues the whole mess of tarp and sleeping bag (and your shoes) without bothering to sort it out.

“I’m going to check around the campfire to be sure we didn’t forget anything,” Jake says. “Then we can head on home. Alright?”

“Sure,” you say, and bring your knees up to your chest to huddle more securely beneath the blanket. Jake returns quickly, to your relief. He takes your arm and tugs you up further into the air. You blearily let him lead you, more occupied by shivering and feeling dizzy than by thinking. Some time gets lost here, to you. You don’t really remember the journey from huddling in the blanket to landing on the shore, facing towards the frog temple. Though you do remember that Jake had to let you slow to a halt and wait whenever the wind picked up at all.

“I’ve let Jade know to expect us,” he says. He looks worried for you. “So we can get you home and into bed directly.”

“Okay,” you agree, not up for considering plans in any detail. Instead you just let him take ahold of your arm, the one that’s not occupied by clutching the blanket around yourself still, and lead you into the air again and across the water.

The transportalizer kicks your lightheadedness up so much that you think you’ll fall over. You nearly have to sit down right there in consort kingdom whether you meant to or not, but Jake catches you when you sway. He keeps an arm wrapped around your back and lets you lean on him for a moment. You feel so sick. All you want to do is stop moving for a while.

“Hey, guys,” Jade says from the doorway. You look up, startled. She’s looking at you with the same worried frown that Jake has been wearing. “You’re sick, huh, Dirk?”

“Pretty bad,” you admit.

She nods. “Let’s go, then. I left a note for the consorts so they won’t be confused to wake up without us there.”

“You’re leaving, too?” You’re confused by this.

“I’ll probably come back later,” she says. Jake tugs you forward gently and she steps aside to let you through. “It’s no big deal. I was awake anyway. Timezones, right?” She lets the two of you go through the transportalizer first and follows shortly after. This time Jake keeps ahold of you so you don’t nearly fall again.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, realizing you’ll have to walk through the streets like this. What time is it? The afternoon, for sure. “Take this back, okay?”

“But you’ve got the chills,” Jake protests when you push the blanket towards him.

“I’m not walking home wrapped in a blanket,” you disagree firmly. As firmly as you can manage while trying not to sway on the spot.

Jake looks like he wants to argue, but Jade takes the blanket away from you.

“I’ll carry it, but if you get too cold you’re taking it back,” she says. She doesn’t sound like she’ll take any bullshit about it either. You acquiesce to this plan.

Jade and Jake have some sort of conversation on the way to your house. You don’t quite track it, expending most of your concentration instead on continuing to walk. Jake keeps a solicitous hand on your arm, which helps. It’s not too long before you’re home. You try to fumble through your sylladex for your keys but Jake unlocks the door before you can get them out.

You decide that Jade is a lovely, sweet person for not saying anything about Jake having his own key, or the way you’re sort of clinging to him to keep yourself moving.

The sight of your bed is the most welcome thing you’ve seen in months. You want to crawl under the covers immediately, but Jade’s presence prevents you from losing your shorts again.

“Are you guys good without me, now?” she asks, hovering in the doorway.

“Yeah, here, I’ll walk you out,” Jake says, letting go of you. “I’ll bring you some water, okay?” Directed at you. He and Jade disappear back towards the door. You ditch half of your clothing and curl up, close to the wall. Jake’s side of the bed.

Jake returns after a few minutes. He sets the water down on the bedside table and perches next to you on the bed. “Can you go back to sleep?” he asks.

“Probably,” you say into the pillow. Chills are still wracking you. You can’t cover yourself up enough. You can’t get warm.

“Good,” he says. He checks your forehead again, and brushes your hair out of your face. It’s soothing. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You mumble something in assent and drift off into a fever haze for a while. When Jake leaves the room you’re briefly awake again but you can’t tell how much time has passed, if any.

It takes you a minute to register the presence of a third person in your state of half-sleep. When you force your eyes open, you’re genuinely surprised to see Jane bending over you.

“Sup,” you say. Man, your head hurts.

“I hear you’ve come down with something,” she says. Jake is hovering in the background, near the door.

“Sure seems like it,” you say. You want to sit up but moving sounds very difficult. “Can you pass me that water?”

Jane hands you the glass after you prop yourself up. You sip at it. Jake hasn’t come any farther into the room. His hands are twisted up in the hem of his shirt, anxious.

“Am I dying?” you ask her.

She snorts and leans back. “You’ve only caught the flu. I think it’s been brewing for a few days, but the travelling probably set it off.”

“Uh, makes sense,” you say, and drink some more water to hide your sudden wave of nerves at having Jake and Jane in the same room. “You going to cure me?”

She taps her fingers against her knee. “I can,” she says. “It would be pretty easy. But, honestly, Dirk, you remember how sick Roxy was last winter?”

“Yeah,” you say. It would have been difficult to miss, given how many messages she’d sent you in a state of total misery.

“Do you remember why I let her stay sick?” she asks. She hasn’t looked over at Jake at all. In fact, she’s carefully not looking at him, you think.

“So she’d build immunity.” You hold the glass out to her. When she takes it you flop back down. “Really? I have to stay sick?”

“You don’t have to,” Jane says. “But it would be better for you, in the long run, so this doesn’t happen so often. I already took the worst of the virus away so you won’t develop a respiratory infection.”

You’re too hot. Actually, your shirt is sticking to you like you’re back out in the jungle. When you stick a foot out from under the blanket you flip to feeling the chills creep back in so you retract it. “Fuck, sure, why not. Just fuck me up, Crocker. I’ll deal.”

“Your immune system will thank me,” she says. “Do you need things? I’ll buy you a thermometer and bring some soup by later.”

“Thanks,” you say. “I’m probably good, otherwise?”

“Okay,” she agrees. Then, looking like she’s steeling herself, she addresses Jake. “Are you staying with him, or should Roxy or I be checking on him?”

“I’m staying, I can take care of him,” Jake says slightly faster than his usual speaking speed.

Jane nods. “Roxy may still come by. She’ll worry when I tell her.”

“That’s fine with me,” you say.

Jane stands and briskly pats herself off, as if she’s collected dust in the few minutes she’s been here. “Well, rest up, Dirk. We have more cooking to do.”

“I want to try making salads again,” you say, though food sounds wildly unappealing right now.

“Only if you’re less neurotic about chopping things this time,” she says, which is basically a yes. She hovers for a second longer. Jake is still in the doorway. “So I’ll just get you the thermometer and come back, then.”

Jake moves out of the way, not closer to you but more into the room. You shut your eyes.

Jane’s shoes click towards the door. “Jane, um,” Jake says.

She hesitates. You can feel it.

“Never mind,” Jake says. You open your eyes to see him look at the floor.

“I’ll be back in just a few,” she repeats, casting you a quick glance, strained, and departs.

Jake stays where he is.

“Thanks,” you say without looking at him.

“For…”

“For getting her,” you say.

“Oh,” Jake says. He’s quiet again. “Of course.”

He finally moves and comes over to sit next to you again. Finds your hand in the blankets and holds it. You squeeze back reflexively.

Jake’s not quite meeting your eyes, but he looks thoughtful rather than stressed. “You look awful,” he says.

“I feel awful,” you agree, unoffended. You’re thinking you might fall asleep again when something occurs to you suddenly. “You don’t have to… I mean, you didn’t have to call the whole trip off because I got sick. Jade went back, right?”

“I can go any time I want,” Jake says. “I want to be here right now. Jade’s not… It’s different. I wouldn’t feel right, leaving you alone like this. Jade knew I was staying, or she would’ve found someone else to keep an eye on you. Besides, you’ve done plenty for me, haven’t you?”

You don’t know how to tell him how guilt curls up in your stomach at the barest thought of him feeling like he owes you. He deserves the world, and better than you. Especially better than this same old insecure shit that drove him away in the first place.

Maybe he reads some of your conflict on you, or just wasn’t expecting an answer. He kisses your fingers like it’s nothing and then lets your hand go. “Are you hungry at all?”

“No, not really,” you say.

“Could you eat something?” Jake rephrases.

You consider. Your stomach isn’t upset, really. Just tight with the overall ache of your body. “Toast or crackers, maybe.”

Jake nods. “I’ll get you something in a little while. Just keep resting.”

“Hey—” you say when he starts to pull away again.

He waits, inquisitive.

“Could you get me a wet washcloth or something?” you ask. It’s weird to ask him for something. You could get it yourself. You always did, growing up.

Jake’s expression visibly softens. “I’ll be back with it in a jiffy,” he promises.

You end up lying in bed with the cold rag over your face until Jane comes back. She sets the thermometer down on your bedside table with a soft clack. “Dirk’s contagious,” she says to Jake. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to keep you from catching it.”

“Oh,” Jake says. You place them in the room by sound. Jane, still next to you, and Jake at the foot of the bed. “That’s… thanks. That would be nice of you.”

Jane probably nods here. You hear her take a few steps and then stop. The bright blue of her healing glows right through the washcloth.

“Alright,” Jane says. “You should be fine now.” She takes another step, towards the door.

“Hey,” you say without moving. “Thank for all this.”

“It’s no trouble,” she promises, and leaves again.

The chills hit you suddenly and you move the washcloth off of your face to squint at where Jake’s sitting at the end of the bed. “This fucking sucks.”

“I think that’s how it goes,” he says. “Keep drinking your water.”

You drink more water to appease him, but huddle back under the covers as soon as you can, shaking. You can’t get warm enough. You don’t want to move, ever.

“Will you be okay in here if I go shower?” Jake asks. You hear him get up and after a second he bends over you inquiringly.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” you say.

He runs a hand through your hair in a reassuring gesture. “Be back shortly,” he promises, and then you’re alone in the room.

You fall asleep so soon that you don’t hear the shower turn on.

When you next wake you have a sense that some time has passed. In your sleep you’ve gone from chills to burning up again. Your head really hurts. You probably need more fluids and some sort of fever-reducing painkiller. Both of these things are available in the bathroom, if you can convince yourself to get up.

Step one: roll over to face the door.

It takes you several minutes to do this, but then you’re on your other side and a few inches closer to your goal. You guess the next step is to stand up. As soon as you’re out of bed you think you’ll be cold again. Possibly lightheaded as well.

In one motion, you grab the mostly-empty water glass and roll up to standing. You are literally at most ten steps from the bathroom sink. This won’t be difficult.

Jake finds you slumped against the wall of the hallway when you stop to consider the merits of sitting down on the floor and dying. He probably heard you open the bedroom door.

“Okay, what are you doing?” he asks, in a tone implying that he thinks maybe you’re delirious with fever and are subsequently making poor decisions.

“Getting water and medicine and using the bathroom,” you say.

“Okay, come on,” Jake says. He tugs you off of the wall and nudges you towards the bathroom door. You go, shaking, feeling like you’re burning up with cold. Jake fills the glass again and sorts through the random assortment of bathroom items you’ve gradually collected before finding something suitably medicinal. He lets you take a piss on your own, though, thoughtfully preserving the little dignity you still have.

“Hey,” he says when you reemerge. “Where do you keep all your robotics odds and ends and such?”

You consider this question, and also your newfound desire to use Jake as a heated blanket. His hands are warm. You haven’t touched your supplies in a while. “On the shelf in the closet,” you say, gesturing vaguely. He helps you back into bed and watches you swallow the pills. “Why?”

“I’m bored as hell,” he admits. “You’re a lot less interesting when you’re sick.”

“Sorry,” you say. The blankets are so welcome. So are the pillows. This bed is your best friend and together you will survive your body’s revolt.

“It’s fine, I just want something to do,” Jake reassures you. He hasn’t left yet and you would really like it if he stayed. You would like him to stay here with you and keep you company.

“Sure,” you say, tugging the blankets around yourself more securely and squashing your unexpected desire for comfort. “Makes sense to me.”

“Will you sleep some more?” Jake asks.

“Probably,” you say. It’s true. You have no energy for being awake right now.

“Alright then,” Jake says. “Next time you decide to get up and walk around get me and I’ll help you.”

“Can do,” you agree, and shut your eyes when he leaves. You burrow down further into the blankets, curled up in a way that is probably doing a poor job of utilizing your bed. But you’re still on Jake’s side, with Jake’s pillow. You hope he doesn’t notice, or if he does he won’t think anything of it. You wait for the meds to kick in, and sleep.

And wake, when the bed shifts in weight. Someone lays a hand on your shoulder. You’re very drowsy and not really feeling inclined to wake up, so you stay put when someone else sits down at the end of the bed.

“He’s really sick, huh,” Roxy says.

“I think he nearly passed out a few times. Scared me halfway to high heaven.” That’s Jake, his voice low and very nearby. He starts rubbing your shoulder.

“So you guys were, what, on vacation when he got sick?”

“Um, sort of,” Jake says. “I invited him to come with me and Jade to see my old island, and also consort kingdom. Except we came home instead.”

This must look bizarre from the outside, you think. If Jake ever told anyone about the nights he was spending here, nobody ever mentioned it to you, and you could never think of a way to bring it up that didn’t violate Jake’s privacy. To Roxy, you must have gone from not talking to each other to Jake sitting on your bed next to you without warning. You suddenly feel like a shitty friend.

There’s a chance you should be more awake for this conversation, but you feel very hazy.

“Came… home?” Roxy asks leadingly.

“Well, his home,” Jake corrects. “Though I’m here probably… half the time? Something like that.”

“So you’re back together.”

The second it takes Jake to respond wakes you up fully, but you stay still, waiting for his answer.

“We haven’t talked about it yet,” Jake says. His hand, which had gone still, drifts up to the back of your neck to play with the fringe of your hair.

Roxy laughs and groans at the same time. “Oh, Jake, no. Please talk to each other.”

“I didn’t mean we’re not together, we’re more like… unofficially together?” Jake sounds sort of embarrassed. “I know we need to talk about it. We probably would be talking about it, if Dirk weren’t sick.”

“Yeah,” Roxy says. “Does Dirk know this?”

“I should hope so, since he’s listening to everything we’re saying,” Jake says.

There’s another pause. “He’s awake?”

“No,” you say.

Jake takes his hand away so you can roll over to squint tiredly at Roxy. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you say. Roxy looks like her normal self, dark skin, light hair, and a brightly colored scarf decorated with… “Are those… cats?”

“Cat butts,” Roxy says proudly. “See the tails and butt puckers?”

“Yeah, I see it,” you say, and drop an arm over your face. You are definitely too warm, but not quite so blazingly hot versus chilled to the bone. The fever’s probably come down some. “Why are you invading?”

“I brought Jane’s soup over,” she says. “And I’m here to entertain Jake. He’s been reduced to watching Earth C Netflix on his phone.”

“Didn’t I give you, like…” Wow. Your brain is foggy. “Robot shit.”

“You’re lacking some key materials,” Jake says. “Lots of screws, but absolutely zero circuit boards.”

“Oh.” You rub your face tiredly. “Sorry. I think I gave them to… somebody. There was someone who needed them.”

“Man, you’re out of it,” Jake says. He fumbles with something out of sight, and then knocks your hand out of the way. You take the thermometer from him and stick it under your tongue.

Roxy takes advantage of your temporary muteness to speak. “I don’t know the last time I saw your hair this bad,” she says, eyeing you. “What did you do to it?”

Unable to respond, you scowl. The thermometer beeps and Jake takes it back. “Got dunked in the ocean, wandered around in rain and humidity, slept on it, slept on it again but with a fever.”

“Your temperature’s gone down,” Jake interjects helpfully.

Roxy is laughing at your description. “Sounds like you know how to show a guy a good time, Jake,” she says, poking him with a toe. Jake startles up from looking at the thermometer.

“It was fun to spend time with _Jade_ , too,” you say.

“I’m sure.” Roxy sounds amused, but she doesn’t push it any further. You’re grateful for that, honestly. The idea of being boyfriends with Jake again puts a pit in your stomach, half elation and half undiluted terror. You think of the way he kissed you and touched you last night and have to will yourself not to blush. Roxy would notice and you would never live it down. “Fine, tell me all about your jungle adventure, then.”

“Very jungly,” you say.

“We mostly just wandered, exploring the sights and all,” Jake says, seeming glad for a change of topic. You try not to think too hard about that. “We found my old globe and went up to the volcano. Nothing too extravagant.”

“But you had fun?” Roxy tucks her feet up onto the bed, settling in.

Jake laughs as you sit up, tugging the blankets into your lap. “Sure. I know I did. You can ask Dirk for his own opinion.”

“It was fun,” you confirm.

“Other than getting… what, dunked in the ocean? How did that happen?”

You roll your eyes and let Jake tell that story. There’s something tight and heavy in your throat, watching them interact. It reminds you of being fifteen and tentatively beginning to let yourself dream of what it might be like, to finally be with your friends and to spend time together. You used to imagine what it might be like to all watch a movie together, to be able to sit and talk for hours, to sleep all in the same room just for fun. In the end, you felt too guilty about Jane, too guilty about Roxy, and too afraid that Jake would wise up and leave you for anything like that to occur the way you’d wanted.

Continuing to think about this is not helping your mood. You lean against the wall and wish you were leaning on Jake instead. You’re too uncertain, especially with an audience. Even if that audience is your best friend.

You’ve been quiet a little too long. Roxy is eyeing you. “You still listening?”

“Not… really,” you admit. “Rox, did you say you brought soup?”

“Yeah, you hungry?”

You shrug. “A little.”

This prompts you all to relocate to the kitchen. Jake and Roxy warm up the soup and continue chatting. You drag an extra blanket along with you, drape it around your shoulders, and let them do the talking. You’re just tired and hazy still, and it doesn’t take you long to slide into a waking doze.

Roxy shoves a spoon in your face, startling you. “Soup’s ready,” she says.

The three of you eat soup at your little table. It’s really just… nice. Pleasant. Jane’s soup is reliably excellent, though you only eat about half before it starts to sit less well. You think Jake might be trying to play footsie until you nudge his ankle in return and he says, “Oh, sorry, was I kicking you?” Roxy laughs at you when you roll your eyes.

She stays a while longer. You ask after Calliope, who is, apparently, _totes adorable_ and Roxy’s _absolute favorite, she’s just so cute!_ She and Jake talk, too, about the feral cat she’s been trying to seduce indoors, about Rose’s failed attempts to teach Roxy to knit, about what Jade might be up to in consort kingdom right now. Eventually they hustle you back to bed, when you admit that you are feeling pretty shitty again. You’re not quite tired, having slept so much of the day, and just lie there, listening to Jake and Roxy talk for a few more minutes, voices pitched low enough that you can’t make out individual words. The cadence of their voices are soothing, enough so that you start to relax. Roxy departs soon after. Jake comes in again.

“Hey,” he says. It’s gotten dark in your room. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug. “Not great. Probably going to take some more medicine in a little bit. Try to sleep.”

Jake nods. “I might sleep on the couch tonight. Not sure I want to get up close and personal with your fever, if it’s all the same?”

“Sure,” you say. Makes sense. Even though Jane preemptively healed him, you’re still pretty gross right now.

“Also, you sort of spent the whole day being all sweaty and fever-y on my half of the bed,” he adds.

“Oh, whatever,” you say, embarrassed.

“I’ll bring you some medicine, though,” he says. You stare at the ceiling and wait for him to return. It only takes a few minutes. “Okay, here you are. I’ll just be in the living room, then, if you need me.”

“Okay,” you echo. He takes half a step back. “Um,” you start.

“Yeah?” he prompts.

You sit up, unsure, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Jake seems to get it. He moves closer as you stand and pulls you forward. You loop your arms around him and press your forehead to his shoulder. He hugs you back.

“Thanks for all this,” you say. “And, like. Yeah.” You bite down the apology a moment before you say it. Jake has already said he’s fine.

“Of course,” he says with a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re feeling a little bit better. You looked so miserable earlier.”

Being so close to him makes your chest hurt, so you disentangle yourself and step back. Somehow, pulling away makes your chest hurt worse. “Yeah. Me too.”

Jake nods and steps back again. “Goodnight, Dirk.”

“Night,” you say. He shuts the door behind him, and you’re left to wait for sleep.

You wake in a pitch black room with a jolt, adrenaline pumping through you. The dream is already fading from your grasp but the terror won’t leave you. You taste metal. Must’ve bit your tongue.

You slide from bed and creep across your little house, quiet as you can, and find Jake asleep under some of your spare blankets on the couch. He opened a window like he does now, and you can hear the night and feel how the room is several degrees cooler because of it. You stand there, indecisive, still irrationally frightened. Jake looks peaceful in the faint light of the moon.

In the end, you go back to bed without waking him, feeling sure that was the wrong choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone has questions about the fic, or especially what jake's thinking through all of this, feel free to hit me up on [my blog!](oceanboydirk.tumblr.com)


	5. come on home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you wonder why it is that i came home / i figured out where i belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a link to an [approximate layout of dirk's house](http://oceanboydirk.tumblr.com/post/160217723406/) that i made a while back, if anyone's having trouble parsing what it looks like. definitely emphasis on approximate, since there's things i left out and the scale's all funny, but it should give you a decent idea of where things are.

You wake up because something is tugging on your scalp. Years of instinct keep you from swatting at the sensation and you blink your eyes open. Minihoof is perched precariously on your pillow and has a mouthful of your hair.

“Where the hell have you been?” you ask her, trying to pull your hair free. Her jaws remain clamped. “Did you go visit the neighbors again? I said not to do that, I don’t like the way their cat looks at you.”

Talking to her is a bad habit left over from a childhood of solitude. You wanted to break it out of embarrassment but Jake laughed the first time he caught you talking to her, back in the game. You can still hear what he said in your head.  _ Are you talking to your pony? Haha. That’s cute _ . So you never broke the habit. You’re sort of embarrassingly dependent on others for a stable sense of self like that.

Minihoof finally releases the clump of hair from her mouth and you sit up, careful not to knock the pillow askew and tip her over. She leaps up onto your bedside table as soon as you’re no longer intriguingly horizontal.

You feel… better. Not great, but not burning up or freezing. Just kind of cold. Minihoof curls up and looks ready to take a nap next to the clock, so you leave her alone and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Sunlight is creeping in the window and you snag an overshirt off the floor. It’s very soft, with sleeves that hang lower than they should on your hands. It smells like Jake because it’s his shirt. Feeling a little guilty for borrowing his clothes when you’re sick, you promise yourself that you’ll wash it later. If he didn’t want you to wear it then he shouldn’t have forgotten it in your room.

You’re still a little light headed when you stand, so you make your way carefully out of your room to find Jake. He’s in the kitchen, sitting on the counter instead of in a chair. He has a plate balanced on his knees, just crumbs on it, and his bedhead is impressive.

“Good morning!” he greets you. “Sleep well?”

You remember how you debated whether or not to wake him in the night, adrenaline-fueled and fevered. “I slept okay,” you say. “Weird dreams.”

“How are you feeling?” Jake cocks his head to the side, squinting at you like he might be able to detect illness through vision. Or, actually, he’s probably squinting at you because he’s not wearing his glasses and can’t see you clearly.

“I do feel better,” you confirm. “Less feverish.” You’ve been hovering in the doorway awkwardly and make yourself move further into the room. Jake drops his plate into the sink and looks at you expectantly, so you sidle up to him.

“I’m glad you feel better,” he says. Then, “Is that my shirt?”

“It was on the floor,” you say. “Finders keepers.”

“It looks good on you,” Jake says. “Do you want some toast or something?”

“Um,” you say, fingers curling reflexively into the sleeves. “Okay? I mean, I can do that. Toast bread.”

Jake rubs at his face like he’s hiding a smile. “You do that.”

You retrieve bread and put it in the toaster, acutely aware of Jake watching you. While you’re getting butter out of the fridge he speaks again.

“So, um, listen, buddy,” Jake starts. “I know I said we’d talk today and all, but would you mind terribly if I took the day off?”

You think you successfully don’t react to that, and set the butter down on the counter. “It’s been a busy few days, hasn’t it.”

“Yes, exactly,” Jake says, sounding relieved. “I was thinking I could come back this evening and we could make dinner together! I just need a few hours to myself, that’s all.”

Your toast pops up and you pluck the slices out to butter them. “That makes sense. You going to want to head out now?”

“Once you eat something,” Jake says. He drums his fingers on the counter, and the silence feels awkward. “Are you… when you say it’s okay, is it really?”

You look up, half-startled. “Yes, it’s really okay. I know that you… get tired.”

“Yeah,” Jake says. He starts picking at a cuticle. You have a bad feeling that you’ve made him nervous somehow. “I just mean. It’s not my intention to have to duck out at all of these inopportune moments! In fact I tend to feel like a — a real heartless bozo every time I leave. I don’t like leaving you alone.”

You finish preparing your toast and put the slices on a plate, thinking. Then you nudge his leg until he slides over and you can boost yourself up next to him.

“But it’s not just me, right?” you ask carefully. “This is just how it is for you. You get tired with everyone.” Because you figured that one out in the months where the two of you barely spoke, and you couldn’t help but notice that Jake’s behavior didn’t change without you as a factor in it. Engage and retreat. “Sort of like how I’m…” You can’t pick a good adjective. Selfish, jealous, clingy, neurotic? “I hold on too much. Not just with you.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I feel good about it.”

You tap his hand to make him stop picking before he actually hurts himself. He stills and laughs shortly.

“I just said I wasn’t going to get into it yet and then went ahead anyway, didn’t I?” he asks.

You take your hand back, trying not to tell yourself it’s your fault he feels guilty. “It’s okay,” you say instead.

“Yeah,” Jake says. He turns and kisses you on the cheek, too quickly for you to do more than freeze in surprise. Then he slides off the counter. “I’m going to get my things and head out, then. Eat your breakfast.”

You finish your toast while he retrieves his glasses from the windowsill behind the couch and disappears into the bathroom for a minute. He comes back with his hair slightly less wild and in a different shirt.

“I’ll see you this evening,” he says. “Maybe a bit after four or so.”

“Okay,” you say. “See you.”

Jake nods and leaves. Your plate gets dumped in the sink after Jake’s without being cleaned, as you still feel too cold and drained to bother. You’re not tired anymore after all the sleeping you’ve done, but you don’t have the energy to do anything, either. You’re kind of intolerably disgusting, though, so you shower. It actually helps you feel a little better. You think you might still be a little feverish but you feel much steadier on your feet.

It’s going to be a lazy day, so you leave your hair to hang around your ears when you’re clean. The idea of getting back in bed with your clean skin and clothes does not appeal, so you shove your sheets into the washer and curl up on the couch, instead. Jake left his blankets neatly folded for you so you snag one and curl up with it and your laptop for a while. Roxy asks how you’re doing when you come online and you tell her you feel mostly better. Some sort of 24-hour flu virus.

Jane probably helped you along much more than she admitted at the time. She doesn’t enjoy seeing her friends ill, even if she knew it would be good for your immune system to continue adjusting to life around other humans. You'll have to think of a way to thank her without telling her what you're thanking her for.

After you switch your sheets into the dryer, you watch a movie that Karkat had told you was vital to your romantic comedy film education. You think it’s alright. Not the most engaging, though Jake would’ve liked it. You would’ve liked it better with Jake there to be enthusiastic about it, maybe. It’s past lunchtime so you eat some of Jane’s leftover soup, though it hasn’t been quite long enough since you last ate for you to feel hungry. You feel like you might be on the verge of a nap despite having woken up kind of late.

Sure enough, you doze off when you return to the couch.

You wake a few hours later, disoriented by how far the sun’s moved across the floor. When you take your temperature you find that your fever is entirely gone.

This is when it hits you that you’re going to be talking to Jake about the problems you had, the last time you dated him. It’s been awhile since you had a full-on panic attack but you quite seriously think you might be about to have one for a moment. You end up spending a minute braced over the kitchen sink with your stomach twisting unpleasantly, fighting to keep your breathing even until you can think more rationally.

You’ve been thinking not with your head but with the aching, empty thing in your chest that decided you wanted Jake in the first place, so many years ago. You’re going to have to — maybe he doesn’t realize. You’ve been better at being decent, at not demanding so much of Jake’s time and energy primarily because you weren’t back together. Jake has continued to be labeled as off-limits in your brain these past few months. You absolutely don’t trust yourself one fucking bit not to slip up, to not loosen your grip on your self-control.

If Jake ends up hating you again, some small part of yourself that you try and try to ignore whispers, it might break you.

You check the time. Jake could be here in under an hour. Fuck. What are you going to say to him?  _ By the way, I just had a neurotic freak out, you sure you still want to date me? How sure, exactly? Can you quantify your level of sureness? Do you want to leave yet, now that I’m being an asshole? _

Shut up, you tell yourself. You’ll just be honest. Answer his questions if he asks them. Try not to interrogate him or question his sincerity, which you try not to do anyway.

Somehow this isn’t helping. You feel worse and there’s no pretending you don’t know why. You want him so badly, always, and you’re busy here thinking about how make yourself seem good enough for him. He’ll figure you out, in the end. Kind of feels inevitable that you’ll drive him away again, doesn’t it? Or that eventually you’ll not be able to keep yourself from panicking if he’s away longer than a few days and he’ll know, then, how bad you still are. Or. Worst of all he might stay with you anyway, even if you hurt him, out of guilt or something. You hate yourself so much you think it’ll suffocate you for a second.

Okay. Okay. You need to calm down.

Your phone buzzes and you nearly jump out of your skin. It’s Jake.

GT: What should we have for dinner?

Right. He wanted to cook something together.

GT: Im right near the market now. Should i get anything?

Better taste in men, you don’t type.

TT: Are you in the mood for something?  
GT: Hmm well maybe i should be asking how youre feeling instead.  
TT: More or less better. No fever.  
GT: Oh good!  
GT: Maybe ill just get some vegetables or something. You have pasta dont you?  
TT: Yes.  
GT: Alrightio i think we should be able to smack something together with that? Ill be home in maybe half an hour or so then.  
TT: You’ll be here?  
GT: Yes thats what i meant.  
GT: So ill see you soon!  
TT: Yep, see you.

You set your phone down on the counter and force yourself to breathe. It’s not like Jake has no clue that you’re fucked up. You push away all of your brain’s shit until you can function again.

You mindlessly dig through your cupboards until you unearth a few bags of pasta that Jane bought you a while back, and then bring out a pot to cook it in. Then you make yourself go refold the blankets you took a nap under and sit on the couch to wait for Jake to show up. You carefully force yourself not to check the clock every few minutes to see how much time has passed. Instead you continue to work on your goal of reading through all of Earth C Wikipedia before your eternal life ends. Or at least click on all the links.

The pages on “ancient civilizations,” otherwise known as the original Can Town that you helped build, proves sufficiently diverting enough that you startle when you hear a key turning in the lock. Jake opens the door and waves with his free hand when he sees you sitting there on the couch.

“Hey,” you say, anxiety returning with a vengeance.

“Hello, hello!” Jake says, kicking his shoes off. You wonder when this conversation is supposed to happen. While you’re cooking? While you’re eating? Or are you going to have to sit there pretending you’re not trying to think of good ways to describe your fiasco of a stable emotional state until after dinner? Fuck, shut up already, you tell your brain.

You abandon your laptop on the coffee table when Jake swings around the wall dividing the kitchen and living room to follow him.

“...Don’t like stores at all,” Jake is saying. “Would you believe it, cross my heart, this happens every time. I feel like I’m being swamped by enthusiastic gazing every time I’m in public. Not sure this whole god thing was well thought out, is all.”

You feel like you missed a key sentence at the beginning of this story. “Being stared at isn’t any fun,” you agree, hoping you landed that one correctly.

“It’s rude, really,” Jake says, dumping out a selection of vegetables onto the counter. “By the way, I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned — I love it when you keep your hair like that. It’s terribly fetching.”

You touch your hair automatically, almost having forgotten that you’d left it down. “Um, thanks,” you say, awkward, feeling certain that you’re blushing horribly. “What should I…”

“You want to wash some of these?” Jake turns back to you with a vague indication of the vegetables. “I thought maybe we could roast them.”

“Sure,” you say, and cross the room, going around the table to get to the sink. This also brings you into close proximity with Jake, so you force yourself to concentrate by rolling up your sleeves and turning the sink on. Jake turns out to be a pretty decent cooking companion. Nobody will ever beat Jane in a kitchen, of course, but Jake is pretty relaxed about the whole thing. He doesn’t seem very attached to the outcome, which, under less trying circumstances, might be helpful to your general state of neurosis about cooking. As it is, you manage to be unusually clumsy and nearly drop the pot of water for pasta.

The food ends up being prepared with minimal preventable mishaps and absolutely zero acknowledgement that you’re supposed to be talking about your relationship. Jake is doing something weird with a jar of pasta sauce and your spice rack (also both things Jane made you buy) when someone knocks on the door.

You are about to pour a pot of boiling water and hot pasta into a strainer, so Jake says, “I’ll get it,” and disappears back around the wall. You hear the door open.

“Oh, hi, Jake,” Dave says. “Didn’t expect to see you here. What’s up? Is Dirk here?”

A thread of last night’s nightmare returns to you with the suddenness of Dave’s voice. You were searching for something, searching searching searching and not finding it, turning around sword in hand and blood dripped from Dave’s mouth with your sword in his chest. You fumble your grip on the pot and nearly drop it. Set it down on the stove and try not to shake. Dave. Dave has every reason to be displeased that you’re — spending time with Jake, that you are more or less dating him again.

“Dirk?” Jake sticks his head around the wall. “Dave wants to talk to you. I can finish up in here while you talk?”

You force yourself to breath deeply and evenly. “Sounds good,” you say, and walk the long way around the table to the living room.

“Hey, dude,” Dave greets you casually. He waves you over towards the couch. “Seems like you’re kinda in the middle of something, so I won’t keep you too long, but I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Sure,” you say, both of you taking a seat. You can’t think of anything so important that Dave would come to tell you in person.

Dave takes a breath. “Guess I’ll just get to the point before I accidentally derail us into a forty minute ramble. Karkat and I are moving to troll kingdom.”

“Oh,” you say. Mostly involuntary.

_Nobody stays_ , your useless mind tells you. 

“I know you hate feeling like people are leaving you,” Dave carries on, casually dropping your deepest insecurity out there where anyone could tromp all over it, “so I wanted to tell you in person. We won’t really be that far apart. We’ve got transportalizers. But yeah.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no answer comes to you. “Uh huh,” you say, just to have a response. You reel for another silent moment. “When?”

He shrugs. “Not immediately. Soon. Probably within the month.” He studies your face. You remember like a slap that you left your shades in the bedroom this morning, and haven’t worn them since. “Are you upset?” Dave asks.

You consider the mess of your feelings and shake your head. “Not… at you,” you say. You don’t have any right to be upset, do you?

“Not at me,” Dave echoes. “What are you feeling, then?”

You consider. You feel what you always feel, for Dave and Karkat. Envious of their happiness. Fearful that you’ll fail to prove to Dave that he should keep you around. You like Karkat. You think he and Dave are very sweet together. You don’t want Dave to be far away, and you want Dave to be safe.

“I’m… happy for you.” It’s tricky to organize this sentence in your head. “I guess you already live together, so congratulations doesn’t seem right, but.”

“Right,” Dave echoes. He seems to accept this answer a little more. “What about you? Should I be congratulating you, I mean?”

“What? Why?” You’re thrown.

He raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I assumed you don’t have meals with people that you feel only a crushing sense of awkwardness and enough guilt to crash a train toward. Could be wrong, though.”

Oh. You resist the urge to grind the heels of your palms into your thighs until you feel calmer. “You’re not…” No, this can’t be the right moment to ask Dave how he feels about you and Jake being together. You need to ask before you end up trapping Jake again. But your problems aren’t what Dave came here to think about. “We’re — I’m trying.” The questions you want to ask: Are you okay with me and Jake being together? Even after everything I told you about myself? How I was a toxic, awful friend for him from the very beginning?

You bite the inside of your cheek. What are you doing? Dave comes here to tell you he’s leaving town permanently and you get hung up on your own problems?

Dave frowns and drums his fingers on his knee. The sun’s moved far enough that it no longer shines through your windows. “I don’t want to pry,” he says. “It’s just, you seem kind of fucked up about it. Or, not fucked up. That’s kind of strong. Stressed? Or is it just my whole moving announcement.”

There’s so much rattling in your head right now, bits of steel in a can, shaken. You don’t know how to reply.

“You don’t have to tell me, either,” Dave says into your awkward pause. “I just meant — well, you could tell me, if you want to. Honesty’s the best policy, right? Done me a whole world of good, anyway. Pulled that whole changed my life for the better shit, cleaned me up and set me on the path of righteousness, only I guess finding religion in this metaphor is, like, bisexuality and overall happiness? But you gotta do what’s best for you, don’t let me decide or anything.”

“Are you okay with — this?” you blurt out, despite yourself.

“With you and Jake?” There’s a note of confusion in Dave’s voice. “Yeah, if it makes you both happy.”

You make yourself lower your voice. Jake can probably hear everything you’re saying. “I just mean, you know a lot of shit about me, about how I… am. In general.”

“Oh,” Dave says. Dawning comprehension. “Well. Hm. Yeah, I am. Okay with it. Like, listen, I’m not super subtle when I give a shit about someone, so it should be pretty obvious by this point that I’m glad to have you around. You’re kind of — I know I’ve said differently before, but hear me out. You’re the opposite of what I would have expected, meeting you. Like, I’m not so bad that I can’t admit that I don’t do well with not knowing if someone actually cares or not. But you don’t give me any reasons to doubt that you do, if that makes sense.” Dave nudges his shades up his nose where they’d started to slip and considers. “So I guess what I actually meant by that was that if you’re trying to work things out with Jake, then you’ve got my, not approval, that’s dumb. You make your own decisions, dude. My support? I trust you, you know? I think you can do it.” He folds his arms uncomfortably. “This is some real Hallmark shit. Question for question. Are you really okay with me and Karkat moving away?”

You concentrate on the question, and push away the impact of Dave caring about you. Dave and Karkat are moving away. The thought hits your brain and bounces away and then back again. “It’s not the best news I’ve ever gotten,” you admit. “How long have you guys been planning this?”

“We’ve been talking about it for a while.” There’s a loud clatter from the kitchen and you look away from Dave, startled, and then refocus. “But we only decided seriously that we wanted to do this recently. I wouldn’t have kept you in the dark for long.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Well, I’m sure you know what you’re doing. But I’m not jumping for joy or anything.”

Dave snorts. “Alright, that’s fair enough,” he says. “What about my answer? Does that help?”

You let yourself think about it. Dave just offered you unresentful reassurance. Dave offered you _trust_. It hits you like a punch to the gut. “Uh. Maybe.” You’re not sure at all that you deserve it, but you can’t help wanting to seize ahold of the idea that Dave doesn’t hold your horrible adult self’s actions against you. It settles in you, heavy. You’re very good at doubt. You think telling Dave you trust him, too, will tip the conversation over to weird, rather than just marrow-flayingly personal. A little too much like telling him about the affection you feel for him, the way he’s curled up in you next to Jane and Roxy and Jake. “Thanks.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jake says, and actually fucking startles you. He’s standing in the open entryway between the kitchen and living room and holding a bowl. “I just thought since we’d already cooked up our dinner you might want some, Dave? I figure you can just bring back the bowl some other time.”

“Oh,” Dave says, looking mildly surprised. “Thanks.”

“Of course!” Jake holds out the bowl with a smile and Dave gets up from the couch to retrieve it from him. “It only seemed polite.”

“Yeah. This smells good,” Dave says. “I should probably get out of your hair, though, so you guys can eat.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” Jake says, a little too brightly. “Tell Karkat we said hello.”

“Um, will do.” Dave juggles the bowl for a second and gets the door open. “Well, I’ll see you guys around.”

“Bye!” Jake says.

“See you,” you say. The door clicks shut. You stare at Jake.

“Stay put,” he tells you, and disappears into the kitchen again.

You stay, nervous and a little fidgety, until Jake returns with two more bowls. He hands you yours and sits down on the couch beside you.

“I guess you heard all of that,” you say.

“Most,” Jake admits. “Though I didn’t understand all of it. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say. You try a bite of your pasta. It’s good. Whatever Jake did with the sauce turned out nice.

“Do you still think of Dave as your brother?”

It’s an innocent question with a difficult answer. “Yeah,” you say. “I guess I do. We don’t really talk about it, though. It’s a little complicated.”

“I understand,” Jake says, through a mouthful of his own. “Me and Jade have had a similar problem. And with John, too, a little.”

Dave’s painful familial history is his own to decide to tell or not, so you just nod. The two of you eat in silence for a minute or two. You remain surprised by how delicious the food is. You’re torn between worrying about Dave moving away and how you and Jake are just sitting here silently.

“So did you want to talk?” you ask, when your nerves outweigh your fear of asking too much, and when you decide that if you don’t try to stop thinking about Dave you’re going to work yourself up to something bad.

Jake nods and tucks his feet up onto the couch. “I’m trying to decide what to say. I don’t want to end up jabbering on meaninglessly or saying things all wrong. Do you want to go first or something?”

Go first. No. You do not want to go first. You have no idea what to say, suddenly.

“Is there, like,” you try, “anything you want me to explain?”

“I mean…” Jake stabs at his food. “Yeah. There are some things I have questions about. The Auto-Responder, maybe. But I feel like… It’s not like I don’t… Hm.” Jake considers his fork, and then considers you. “I don’t know how useful it is to discuss these things, is all. I think I know you pretty well, all things considered. I would be more shocked if you  _ could  _ shock me. It didn’t surprise me to hear Dave say that you’re scared of being left anymore than it would surprise me if you got fed up with me constantly running off.”

You look down at your bowl. It’s nearly empty. You nudge a chunk of zucchini onto a piece of pasta and spear it, but don’t eat it yet. “I try not to think of it like that,” you say quietly. “I know you need time to yourself and please believe me when I say I’m furious with myself for ever making you feel like you couldn’t have that.”

Jake makes a low noise of negation in his throat. “But I don’t want you to be furious with yourself,” he says. “I just want us to be okay. I want…” He trails off and picks at the rest of his food instead. You eat your last few bites for lack of knowing what to say, and follow Jake into the kitchen to do a little of the washing-up. Jake bats you away when you try to help, though, and you stand there uselessly while he dumps soap into a pot and starts scrubbing.

“You’ve been doing a lot for me,” Jake finally says. “I asked you for help with my nightmares and you let me stay here with you. I want to be able to help you, too. And this isn’t a guilt thing, so you don’t have to look so spooked out of your boots, alright? I know when you’re not happy. But I never know how to help you, and that’s part of why I got so nervous. In the game, I mean.”

“Jake,” you start.

“Let me finish.” Jake rinses the soap off a few things, sets them to dry, and then braces himself against the sink. “I want to be able to help you, or at least to know for certain what’s going on in that impenetrable noggin of yours. So I guess this is me asking you to tell me more what’s going on for you, before it gets bad. You know. Before me leaving makes you panic. Because—” He looks at you, sidelong. “Does this make any sense?”

“Yeah. It does.” Your voice comes out quieter than you meant it.

“Are you…” Jake glances back at the sink but leaves the last few dishes where they are. “Do you still worry that I’m only humoring you? That’s what worried you so much, right? Thinking I didn’t really… want to be around you.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I mean, no. I used to worry about that.”

“Not anymore?” Jake searches your face.

You shake your head, slowly. Jake has pretty clearly been choosing to be around you. “I worry I’ll fuck up and hurt you, and drive you away again.”

“Well, don’t.” Jake takes a breath. “Because I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

You just stand there, shocked into muteness. Your brain instinctively wants to refuse to believe him. It slowly trickles in how nervous Jake looks. The way he’s twisted his hands together, eyes canted aside. Jake doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. If anything, you’ve noticed that he’ll do plenty of verbal gymnastics to avoid saying something he doesn’t mean. This wasn’t an ambiguous statement.

“I love you, too,” you say, trying not to feel stricken.

Jake snorts out a laugh. “I noticed,” he says. “You’re not particularly subtle, you know.”

“I — fuck you.” If you’re blushing you’re going to lock yourself in the bathroom until the end of the world.

“Was that enough talking?” Jake says. “Please say we can be done now. I don’t want to stand here all night and hash out every last moment we’ve had where we weren’t perfectly in accord. I think we know each other well enough to not need to talk about all of our flaws in minute detail. That was enough, right?”

Something clicks together in your head. You think of all your worries, everything you thought of earlier that you panicked in wanted to warn him about, and you let it go. There’s no time limit, you think. You can tell him later, in bits and pieces, even. That might be actually be better anyway, given Jake’s aversion to ever talking about things.

“I think we can call it good,” you say.

Jake exhales relief and grins at you. You don’t try to stop yourself from smiling back in return, even if it’s only a hesitant start to a smile. And there’s a flicker of mischief in Jake’s expression that you know well, so it surprises you not at all when he kisses you and leads you to your bedroom.

In your room Jake slides a hand under your shirt and you push him back until he lies in your blankets like he has so many times, but now you can crawl in after him and kiss him in the bed you share, and that’s what you do. The rush evaporates. You settle into just kissing each other, gentle and quiet.

For the first time you let yourself think that you have enough time to figure everything out, time to learn how to talk to each other, time to learn how to live with each other. The raw thing in your chest feels a little less ragged with each kiss you exchange.

Jake draws back and laughs unexpectedly. “What a whole lot of fuss I made,” he says. “I thought we would have this terrible conversation and that I would feel so nervous and be struggling to make myself understood. But look at us. We’re good, aren’t we, Dirk?”

You think of all the uncertainty ahead in your future, all the vast amount of time you have to your disposal, and all the small daunting decisions everyone around you is making. You look at Jake, and the certainty in his expectant expression.

“Yeah,” you say. “We’re good.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. here we are. hope it satisfies. 
> 
> the title of the fic as well as each chapter comes from the lyrics of the song "long & lost" by florence and the machine. for this chapter specifically i also listened to "resurrection fern" by iron and wine a lot. like, a lot. 
> 
> i want to thank everyone who read this fic, particularly everyone who commented and talked to me about it and cheered me on. you guys are the best.
> 
> there will most likely be an epilogue.


	6. epilogue: forgive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the FIFTH version of the epilogue. whyyyy it was so hard to write i'll never know. 
> 
> but yes. this is the final part.

There’s still a squirm of discomfort in your stomach when Dirk sees you undressed. No matter how you tell yourself that you’re comfortable with him, that Dirk would never touch you if you told him not to, sometimes when his gaze lingers on your bare skin you want to flinch. 

It drives you up the wall and onto the ceiling with frustration. But you don’t know what to do about it, beyond what you’ve already tried. Talking to Dirk helps, a little, but you still freeze with nerves from time to time when you try to explain what’s wrong. 

Not that this was a problem today. Dirk left early in the morning for some romp he had planned with Roxy and Rose, too early for you to be tempted to get any friskier than putting the pillow over your head when Dirk turned the lights on. You did eventually get up once you begrudgingly accepted that you weren’t going to fall back to sleep. This is how you come to find yourself shopping for some mechanical odds and ends you need for a project Dirk enlisted your help with all on your lonesome. You like being alone. You like how it gives you time to let all of your thoughts rattle on without interruption, and you like the quiet. You also like spending time with Dirk, and you feel more at home in his borrowed house besides. This is an ongoing balancing act. 

The solution, you think, is to have more space, so that you could be alone if need be without having to truly leave Dirk on his own. This is not to say you have a good idea of how to go about this, or how to broach the topic with him.

You collect the items you’re shopping for one by one as you mull this topic over in your head. More space, fewer neighbors, less of this having to walk down streets and be surrounded by strangers. The trouble is that Dirk likes people. You don’t want to whisk him off to some mountaintop with only your fickle feelings towards socializing for company. There’s transportalizers and the like available to you for minimizing this problem… but still, you hesitate. 

The shop clerk is a young troll undergoing that unfortunate phase of troll puberty where their lighter gray skin begins to peel and flake off, exposing the pitch black adult skin below. The adult molt, that’s what it’s called. John described it as a mix of acne and dandruff. You, personally, find it a bit, well. Perturbing. 

You set down your items and the troll rings you up. Money’s a bit of a strange concept on Earth C. People seem to sell things primarily for the fun of it, and not for profit. You don’t have a good point of reference, but Dave assured you that it’s a very weird change for anyone used to having to think about what things cost. 

“Is this everything?” the troll asks you, and that’s when you see it. 

Displayed on a rack next to the counter is a set of fake mustaches, self-adhering and looking to be furry to the touch. Jane would like them, you think automatically, and then remember that you and Jane don’t talk to each other anymore. Because you never sought her out to make amends. Because you have nightmares about what she said to you when a CrockerCorp AI dug its fingers into her brain and fished out her anger with you. Because you were too stupid to see that you were hurting her. 

You’ve been meaning to find a way to talk to her about it. 

The clerk is still waiting for you to respond, one eyebrow slowly rising at your frozen silence. 

“I’m getting these, too,” you blurt out, and make a fool of yourself by smacking your hand against the counter when you try to grab the mustaches. 

Knuckles still smarting a few minutes later, you sit down on a curb under the hot summer sun with most of your purchases safely stowed away in your sylladex and the sheet of mustaches in hand. You tap your fingers against them, fighting the urge to go home and pretend you didn’t buy them. 

No. You can be brave, for once.

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 11:04  
GT: [[image attached]](http://img.dxcdn.com/productimages/sku_7428_1.jpg)  
GT: These reminded me of you. 

She doesn’t make you wait long. 

GG: Hoo hoo! They used to sell those at the corner store near my house!   
GG: What a funny thing to carry over from our universe.   
GT: It could be a coincidence.   
GT: The fine folk of earth c have you as a divine role model. Perhaps theyve taken to worshipful emulation of your interests and have created a similar product thusly.   
GG: That could be it, too!

This is the extent to which you’re considered this conversation. You don’t know what to say next. Something with a nerve-wrackingly large number of teeth gnaws at your stomach. 

GG: …  
GG: How have you been, Jake?   
GT: Im

You bite your lip. 

GT: Im okay.   
GT: Trying to figure things out still i suppose.   
GT: Yourself?   
GG: About the same, I think.   
GG: Who knew growing up would entail so much introspection on all of your mistakes.   
GT: Not i.   
GT: Jane im.   
GT: Im really sorry about everything. And for taking so long to tell you that.   
GG: I’m sorry, too. I wish I could take it all back.   
GT: Come now most of the trouble on your end happened while you were robopossessed.  
GG: Not all of it.   
GG: I never spoke my mind to you, and that hurt both of us.   
GT: Can we start over? Try again?   
GT: Youre still one of my best friends.   
GG: I would love to.   
GG: Here, when it comes to speaking my mind, I’ll start now:   
GG: Would you ever…   
GG: I understand if the answer is no, or not yet.   
GG: Would you want to do something together, sometime?   
GT: Id like that.   
GT: Id like that a whole fucking lot. By gum if i havent missed you janey.   
GG: I missed you, too. 

You pretend you don’t know why your eyes are burning, and shove your glasses up your forehead so you can wipe your face and keep typing. 

GT: Besides i have to gift you your mustaches. Otherwise theyll just molder in a corner somewhere all melancholic and unused.   
GG: Well, we can’t have that!   
GG: Later this week, maybe?   
GT: Sounds good to me.   
GT: I have to go. Im sort of sitting on a curbside and should be getting home.   
GG: That’s fine! I’ll see you soon. :B  
GT: See you soon. 

You don't think it'll be easy, spending time with Jane again, but you have to try. Just this one conversation and you already feel a bit lighter. You take a second to wipe your eyes again before you stand up, stash your phone and the mustaches away, and set off home to Dirk’s.


End file.
